THE  COACHING 
ERA 


VIOLET  A.  WILSON 


^ 


^'^^/i 


JOHN  A.  SE  AVERNS 


Vetermary  Library 

Tufts  University 

School  of  Veterinary  Medkme 

200  Westboro  Rd. 

North  Grafton.  MA  01L^6 


THE    COACHING    ERA 


BY  THE   SAME   AUTHOR 


QUEEN  ELIZABETH'S 

MAIDS    OF    HONOUR 

Illustrated 


THE  BODLEY  HEAD 


V, 


•^ 


s 


1^ 


THE  COACHING  ERA 

BY    VIOLET    A.    WILSON 

WITH    FIFTEEN    ILLUSTRATIONS    FROM 
OLD    PICTURES   AND    PRINTS 


NEW    YORK 

E.    P.    BUTTON    &    COMPANY 

68i    FIFTH    AVENUE 


MADE   AND   PRINTED   IN   GREAT    BRITAIN    BV    MORRISON    AND  GIBB    LTD.,   EDINBURGH 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

I 

Early  Coaches           ...... 

PAGE 
1 

II 

Stage-Coaches 

i6 

III 

Mail-Coaches    ....          .         . 

•       31 

IV 

Coachmen           ...... 

44 

V 

Guards     ....... 

.        69 

VI 

Coaching  Competition        .... 

.          .        85 

VII 

Coach  Proprietors     ..... 

.      104 

VIII 

Down  the  Road        ..... 

.      114 

IX 

"The  Traveller's  Oracle" 

.      139 

X 

The  Coach  as  News-Bearer 

.      151 

XI 

Highwaymen      ...... 

.      162 

XII 

The  Amateurs           ..... 

.           .      178 

XIII 

Accidents           ...... 

196 

XIV 

Travellers'   Experiences    .... 

.      210 

XV 

Two  Foreigners  on  Coaching   . 

227 

XVI 

The  Coming  of  the   Railway    . 

.      241 

Index        

.     2Ci: 

LIST    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS 

In   Co/our 

An   Early  Stage-Coach        .... 
By  J.  C.  IBBETSON  (1792) 

Mail-Coach  going  Downhill 
By  J.  Pollard 

Mail-Coach  in  a  Snow-Drift 
By  J.  Pollard 

Stage-Coach  and  Opposition  Coach  in   Sight 
By  J.  Pollard 

A  Stage-Coach  ...... 

By  M.  E. 

The  Norwich  Coach    ..... 

The  Roadsters    ...... 

By  H.  Alken 

The  Day  before  Christmas 
In  Black  and  White 


The  York  Highflyer   (Edinburgh  and  London) 

The  Oxford  Coach 

By  F.  Turner 

The  Abingdon  Machine 


Edinburgh    and    London    M 
Moonlight   . 
By  J.  Pollard 

The  Exeter  Coach 

By  T.  F.  Herring 

A  Double-Bodied  Coach 
The  Last  of  the  Coaches 


ail-Coach 


passing    Toll-Gate    by 


Frontispiece 

FACING    PAGE 
38 


72 

94 
132 

170 
192 

234 

20 
54 


1 12 

156 

202 

222 

250 


NOTE 

The  thanks  of  the  Publishers  are  due  to  Mr.  A.  E.  Preston,  Messrs.  Leggatt 
Bros,  of  St.  James's  Street ;  Messrs.  Arthur  Ackermann  of  Bond  Street ;  and 
Messrs.  Bromhead  6^  CuTTS  of  Cork  Street,  for  their  kindness  in  lending  the 
valuable  Pictures  and  Prints  which  bear  their  names  in  this  Volume. 


"  GENTLEMEN— THE    ROAD! 


.'■• 


THE 

COACHING    ERA 

CHAPTER  I  EARLY  COACHES 

WHEN  the  Romans  came  to  England,  they 
were  not  greatly  impressed  by  our  island  or 
its  inhabitants,  for  Cicero  wrote  to  a  friend 
that  there  appeared  to  be  very  little  worth 
taking  away  from  Britain,  except  the  chariots,  of  which 
he  wished  his  friend  to  bring  him  one  as  a  pattern. 

These  chariots,  which  the  Ancient  Britons  used  in 
battle,  differed  in  certain  respe6ls  from  those  of  Roman 
construdlion:  they  were  open  in  front  instead  of  at  the 
back,  whilst  the  pole  went  straight  out  between  the 
horses  and  was  broad  enough  for  the  driver  to  walk 
along;  the  wheels  were  high  and  had  long  scythes 
fixed  to  the  axle  trees,  so  that  when  driven  at  full 
speed  through  the  ranks  of  the  enemy  they  produced 
a  devastating  effe6f. 

The  writers  of  old  chronicles  occasionally  mentioned 
the  use  of  "whirlcotes,"  which  were  litters  borne  by 
men  or  horses.  In  these  women  and  sick  persons 
travelled;  but  it  was  not  till  the  reign  of  Queen  Eliza- 
beth that  regular  coaches  were  first  introduced  into 
England. 

The  sixteenth  century  then  saw  the  establishment  of 
private  coaches,  the  seventeenth  of  stage-coaches,  the 


2  THE   COACHING  ERA 

eighteenth  of  mail-coaches,  the  nineteenth  of  railways, 
and  the  twentieth  of  flying  machines.  Doubtless,  next 
century  will  evolve  an  even  more  progressive  mode  of 
transport,  causing  our  descendants  to  smile  tolerantly 
when  they  speak  of  the  days  when  people  were  content 
to  travel  at  the  leisurely  rate  of  a  mile  a  minute. 

We  can,  however,  console  ourselves  with  the  com- 
forting refledlion  that,  if  posterity  will  look  down  on  us, 
our  present  means  of  locomotion  would  command  the 
awe  and  respeft  of  our  ancestors  of  a  few  generations 
back.  If  they  could  be  persuaded  that  we  had  not 
sold  ourselves  to  the  devil,  and  were  in  consequence 
profiting  by  his  satanic  majesty's  own  patent  inventions, 
they  would  certainly  account  us  heroes,  and  marvel  at 
our  temerity.  In  their  days  carriages  with  horses  were 
looked  upon  as  novelties,  and  the  back  of  the  horse  con- 
sidered the  orthodox  means  of  transport;  while  those 
who  could  only  afford  the  humble  conveyance  of 
Shank's  mare  had  perforce  to  confine  their  peregrina- 
tions within  narrow  limits. 

If  some  one  with  a  gift  of  prophecy,  and  a  desire  for 
notoriety,  had  ventured  to  foretell  the  advent  of  motor- 
cars, the  good  folk  of  the  time  would  have  remarked 
plainly  that  he  lied,  for  such  things  could  not  be.  If 
pressed  to  give  a  solid  reason  for  this  statement,  they 
would  have  pointed  to  the  nearest  high  road,  and  asked, 
if  six,  eight,  and  sometimes  as  many  as  fifteen  horses 
were  requisite  to  pull  coaches  out  of  the  mud  in  which 
they  so  persistently  stuck,  how  then  would  coaches  with- 
out horses  at  all  fare? 


EARLY    COACHES  3 

This  was  so  eminently  true  that  the  prophet,  having 
no  precedent  for  road  engineers  or  the  powers  of  steam, 
would  have  been  at  a  loss  for  an  answer  and,  seeing  the 
apparent  futility  of  his  remark,  have  hastened  to  add 
that  he  spoke  by  way  of  pleasantry,  and  that  by  horse- 
less carriages  he  meant  those  drawn  by  oxen.  If  he  was 
anxious  to  enhance  his  reputation,  he  might  even  have 
ventured  to  predidl  live  unicorns  for  draught  pur- 
poses, as  those  mystic  animals  were  still  thought  to 
exist,  and  the  prophet  would  have  obtained  far  more 
credence  than  if  he  had  adhered  to  his  original  state- 
ment, that  carriages  would  travel  without  the  assistance 
of  any  animal  power  at  all. 

The  roads  in  England  were  at  that  time,  and,  indeed, 
for  long  after,  in  such  an  appalling  state  that  travelling 
of  any  description  was  both  difficult  and  dangerous,  and 
in  winter  well-nigh  impossible.  A  narrow  track  in  the 
middle  of  the  road  represented  the  only  firm  surface, 
whilst  on  either  side  were  deep  sloughs  of  mud,  and 
ruts  eminently  calculated  to  break  the  leg  of  man  or 
beast. 

To  those  obliged  to  travel,  the  middle  of  the  road  was 
the  only  place,  and  they  started  off  with  the  firm  deter- 
mination never  to  leave  it;  the  consequence  was  that 
when  two  trains  of  pack-horses,  or  two  waggons  met, 
the  right  of  way  was  very  fiercely  contested.  The  rule 
of  the  road  being  either  unknown  or  wilfully  dis- 
regarded, the  question  as  to  who  should  step  down  into 
the  sea  of  mud  was  usually  settled  by  a  free  fight  among 
the  parties  concerned.  Travellers  in  the  rear  had  "to 


4  THE   COACHING  ERA 

stand  stock-still  behind  the  standing  cart  or  waggon, 
on  most  beastly  and  insufferable  deep  wet  ways,  to  the 
great  endangering  of  our  horses,  and  the  negleft  of 
important  business:  nor  durst  we  adventure  to  stir  (for 
the  most  imminent  danger  of  those  deep  ruts,  and  un- 
reasonable ridges)  till  it  has  pleased  mister  carter  to 
jog  on  which  we  have  taken  very  kindly."^ 

Such  was  the  tenacity  of  the  mud  that,  during  the 
Civil  War,  the  Parliamentarians  captured  800  horse, 
not  in  battle,  after  a  full  fair  fight,  but  "while  sticking 
in  the  mire."  Dr.  Burton  opined  that  the  reason  Sussex 
women,  oxen  and  swine,  were  all  long-legged  arose 
from  the  necessity  of  forcibly  pulling  their  feet  out  of  the 
mud  with  every  step  they  took.  At  a  time  when  all  the 
roads  in  the  kingdom  were  bad,  those  in  Sussex  had 
the  distinftion  of  being  among  the  worst.  One  of  the 
courtiers  who  accompanied  Queen  Anne's  husband, 
Prince  George  of  Denmark,  on  a  visit  to  Petworth  in 
1703,  has  left  a  dismal  account  of  the  experiences  which 
befell  their  party: 

"We  set  out  at  six  o'clock  in  the  morning  to  go  for 
Petworth,  and  did  not  get  out  of  the  coaches  (save  only 
when  we  were  overturned  or  stuck  fast  in  the  mire) 
till  we  arrived  at  our  journey's  end.  'Twas  hard  service 
for  the  Prince  to  sit  fourteen  hours  in  the  coach  that 
day  without  eating  anything,  and  passing  through  the 
worst  ways  that  ever  I  saw  in  my  life:  we  were  thrown 
but  once  indeed  in  going,  but  both  our  coach  which 
was  leading  and  His  Highness's  body  coach,  would  have 
suffered  very  often,  if  the  nimble  boors  of  Sussex  had  not 

^  Thomas  Mace's  tradl  on  the  State  of  the  Roads,  1675. 


EARLY   COACHES  5 

frequently  poised  it  or  supported  it  with  their  shoulders 
from  Godalming  almost  to  Petworth;  and  the  nearer  we 
approached  to  the  Duke's  house  the  more  inaccessible 
it  seemed  to  be.  The  last  nine  miles  of  the  way  cost  us 
six  hours  time  to  conquer  them,  and  indeed  we  had  never 
done  it  if  our  good  master  had  not  several  times  lent  us 
a  pair  of  horses  out  of  his  own  coach,  whereby  we  were 
enabled  to  trace  out  the  way  for  him." 

Horace  Walpole  wrote  bitterly  of  the  Sussex  roads  in 
1749,  and  besought  his  friends,  if  they  valued  their  lives 
and  constitutions,  never  to  set  foot  in  that  appalling 
county.  The  inhabitants  were  savages,  the  inns,  horses, 
postilions,  and  coaches  all  as  bad  as  bad  could  be,  and 
the  roads  so  execrable  that  anyone  foolish  enough  to 
imagine  them  meant  for  wheeled  traffic  would  be 
promptly  disillusioned. 

In  the  North  things  were  little  better,  for  Arthur 
Young,  the  agriculturist,  in  his  northern  tour  of  1770 
exclaimed  vehemently: 

"I  know  not  in  the  whole  range  of  language  terms 
sufficiently  expressive  to  describe  this  infernal  road. 
Let  me  most  seriously  caution  all  travellers  to  avoid 
it  as  they  would  the  devil,  for  a  thousand  to  one  they 
break  their  necks  or  their  limbs  by  overthrows  or  break- 
ings down.  They  will  meet  with  ruts  which  I  actually 
measured  four  feet  deep  and  floating  with  mud,  only 
from  a  wet  summer,  what  therefore  must  it  be  after  a 
winter?" 

Even  in  the  vicinity  of  London,  matters,  though 
slightly  better  than  in  the  provinces,  were  still  nothing 


6  THE   COACHING   ERA 

to  boast  of,  and,  as  late  as  1736,  Lord  Hervey  writing 
from  Kensington  declared:  "The  road  between  this 
place  and  London  is  grown  so  infamously  bad  that  we 
live  here  in  the  same  solitude  as  we  would  do  if  cast  on 
a  rock  in  the  middle  of  the  ocean;  and  all  the  Londoners 
tell  us  that  there  is  between  them  and  us  an  impassable 
gulf  of  mud." 

The  cross-country  roads  in  the  provinces  were  called 
roads  out  of  courtesy,  for  in  point  of  fact  they  were 
little  more  than  rough  tracks  across  country  made  by  the 
carriers  with  their  strings  of  pack-horses.  These  pack- 
horses,  besides  being  the  acknowledged  conveyance  for 
merchandise  and  other  heavy  goods,  also  carried  occa- 
sional letters,  packages,  and  sometimes  travellers,  from 
one  place  to  another. 

Smollett,  whose  novel,  Roderick  Random,  is  largely 
autobiographical,  gives  an  account  of  such  a  journey: 
"I  determined  therefore  to  set  out  with  the  carriers 
who  transplant  goods  from  one  place  to  another  on 
horseback;  and  this  scheme  I  accordingly  put  into 
execution,  on  the  first  day  of  November  1739,  sitting 
upon  a  pack-saddle  between  two  blankets,  one  of  which 
contained  my  goods  in  a  knapsack.  But  by  the  time 
we  arrived  at  Newcastle-on-Tyne,  I  was  so  fatigued 
with  the  tediousness  of  the  carriage,  and  benumbed  with 
the  cold  of  the  weather,  that  I  resolved  to  travel  the  rest 
of  the  journey  on  foot,  rather  than  proceed  in  such  a 
disagreeable  manner." 

Walter  Rippon  made  the  first  hollow  turning  coach 
for  Queen  Elizabeth,  but  his  invention  did  not  advance 


EARLY   COACHES  7 

him  much  in  her  favour,  for  she  was  so  knocked  about 
in  it  during  her  first  drive  that  she  refused  ever  to  use 
it  again.  Elizabeth's  next  coach  was  intimately  con- 
nefted  with  what  to  her  was  a  most  important  event, 
for  William  Bonner  brought  it  from  Holland,  and  with 
him  came  his  wife,  who  introduced  the  art  of  clear 
starching,  by  the  aid  of  which  the  Queen's  ruffs  spread 
out  stiffly  to  a  truly  astonishing  extent. 

The  early  coaches,  gorgeous  with  cloth  of  gold, 
embeUished  with  wonderful  carvings,  adorned  with 
ostrich  plumes,  were  outwardly  everything  that  was 
magnificent  and  regal,  but  agonizing  to  drive  in.  Being 
utterly  destitute  of  springs,  they  pitched  and  rolled  in 
an  alarming  manner  over  the  rough  roads,  so  that  it  is 
no  wonder  that,  when  giving  audience  to  the  French 
ambassador,  Elizabeth  complained  that  she  was  "suffer- 
ing aching  pains  in  consequence  of  having  been  knocked 
about  in  a  coach  which  had  been  driven  a  little  too  fast 
only  a  few  days  before."^ 

Queen  Elizabeth  had,  however,  a  very  keen  per- 
ception of  the  state  and  pageantry  due  to  royalty,  and 
on  public  occasions  she  used  her  coach  despite  its  mani- 
fold discomforts.  At  the  public  thanksgiving  for  the 
defeat  of  the  Spanish  Armada,  she  proceeded  in  great 
pomp  to  St.  Paul's  Cathedral,  attended  by  an  enormous 
retinue  on  horseback.  Elizabeth  made  a  truly  impressive 
appearance  in  "a  chariot  throne  made  with  foure 
pillars  behind  to  have  a  canopie,  on  the  top  whereof  was 
made  a  crowne  imperial,  and  two  lower  pillars  before 
1  Ddpeches  de  La  Mothe-F6nelon. 


8  THE   COACHING   ERA 

whereon  stood  a  lyon  and  a  dragon,  supporters  of  the 
arms  of  England."^ 

The  great  ladies  who  were  present  on  this  occasion, 
or  who  got  their  husbands  to  give  them  a  detailed  de- 
scription of  the  Queen's  wonderful  conveyance,  never 
rested  till  they  had  coaches  of  their  own,  though  they 
were  perfectly  aware  that  by  their  presumption  in  daring 
to  imitate  they  ran  the  risk  of  incurring  her  Majesty's 
displeasure,  and  the  Elizabethan  temper  was  a  thing  to 
be  reckoned  with.  Be  in  the  fashion  they  would,  cost 
what  it  might,  and  importuned  their  husbands  till 
at  last  obtaining  their  wish  they  "rode  up  and  down  the 
country  to  the  admiration  of  all  beholders." 

At  first  the  Spartan  gentlemen  of  the  period  looked 
on  all  carriages  with  contempt,  considering  them  only 
fit  for  women  and  the  aged,  and:  "In  Sir  Philip  Sydney's 
days,  so  famous  for  men  at  armes,  'twas  then  held  a  great 
disgrace  for  a  young  gentleman  to  be  seen  riding  in  the 
streets  in  a  coach."  Thomas  Pennant,  the  antiquarian, 
says:  "The  single  gentlemen,  then  a  hardy  race,  equipped 
in  Jack  boots  and  trousers  up  to  their  middle,  rode  fast 
through  thick  and  thin,  and  guarded  against  the  mire, 
defying  the  frequent  stumble  and  fall,  arose  and  pursued 
their  journey  with  alacrity."  This  attitude  died  out  in 
the  next  generation,  and  early  in  the  seventeenth  cen- 
tury a  coach  was  essentially  part  of  a  fashionable  man's 
equipment.  In  1619  the  Duke  of  Buckingham,  so 
beloved  at  Court  and  abhorred  of  the  public,  desiring 
to  make  a  grand  display,  caused  six  horses  to  be  har- 
1  Nichols's  Progresses  of  Queen  Elizabeth. 


EARLY   COACHES  9 

nessed  to  his  private  coach;  a  piece  of  arrogance  that  so 
enraged  the  haughty  old  Earl  of  Northumberland  that 
he  determined  to  surpass  it,  and  promptly  appeared 
with  a  coach  and  eight,  "and  drove  through  the  city  of 
London  to  Bath,  to  the  vulgar  talk  and  admiration." 

Considering  the  state  of  the  Bath  Road  at  that  time, 
the  eight  horses,  no  doubt,  had  all  they  could  do  to  pull 
the  heavy  coach  through  the  quagmires  that  encom- 
passed it.  Noble  and  intrepid  pioneers  suffered  for  their 
pride,  when  their  coaches  stuck  fast  or  were  over- 
turned in  tjie  mud,  and  highwaymen,  never  renowned 
as  respecSlers  of  persons,  relieved  them  of  their  valuables 
on  lonely  heaths,  whither  they  had  wandered  and  lost 
their  way.  Except  being  upset,  nothing  was  so  easy  for 
these  early  travellers  as  to  lose  their  way;  indeed,  in 
consequence  of  the  absence  of  signposts,  and  the 
difficulty  of  telling  roads  from  cart  tracks,  they  were 
likely  to  arrive  at  an  entirely  different  destination  from 
the  one  they  set  out  for. 

After  the  Restoration,  private  carriages  are  often 
mentioned  in  the  news  letters  of  the  time,  chiefly  on 
account  of  the  accidents  which  so  very  frequently  befell 
them.  Thus  in  1679: 

"We  hear  that  the  Duke  of  Monmouth  lately  passing 
over  the  ferry  at  Windsor  with  his  coach  and  six  horses, 
two  of  the  horses  in  the  passage  leapt  over  the  boat  into 
the  water,  and  endangered  the  drawing  of  the  coach 
after  them,  had  not  one  of  the  servants  cut  the  traces, 
and  let  them  go,  thereby  preventing  any  further  mischief 
which  might  have  happened." 


10  THE   COACHING  ERA 

Pepys,  in  his  diary,  recounts  how  he  saw  the  King's 
coach  overturned: 

"To  Whitehall,  from  whence  the  King  and  the  Duke 
of  York  went  by  three  in  the  morning,  and  had  the 
misfortune  to  be  overset  with  the  Duke  of  York,  and 
the  Prince  (Rupert)  at  the  Kingsgate  in  Holborne,  and 
the  King  all  dirty,  but  no  hurt.  How  it  came  to  pass 
I  know  not,  but  only  it  was  dark,  and  the  torches  did 
not,  they  say,  light  the  coaches  as  they  should." 

In  1634  Captain  Butler,  a  retired  mariner  of  a  specu- 
lative turn  of  mind,  built  four  hackney-coaches  which 
he  stationed  for  public  hire  at  the  Maypole  in  the 
Strand.  This  venture  met  with  instant  success,  and 
Captain  Bailey's  liveried  drivers  were  in  great  request 
so  that  other  drivers,  quick  to  follow,  took  up  their 
station  at  the  coach  rank  or  drove  slowly  about  in  search 
of  fares. 

These  first  hackney-coaches  were  imitations  of  the 
private  coaches  of  the  period,  and  the  coachman's 
position  was  most  unenviable,  for,  as  the  idea  of  a  coach- 
box had  not  yet  occurred,  the  driver  was  accommodated 
on  a  bar  placed  very  low  behind  the  horses.  "The 
coachman  rides  behind  the  horses'  tails,  lasheth  them, 
and  looketh  not  behind  him,"  wrote  Stow,  who  was  of 
the  opinion  that  no  carts  shod  with  iron  should  be  al- 
lowed within  the  city  "unless  for  the  service  of  princes"; 
even  then  the  foremost  horse  should  be  led  by  hand  to 
minimize  danger. 

This  sudden  influx  of  public  vehicles  was  not  regarded 
at  all  favourably  at  Court,  which  very  justly  considered 


EARLY   COACHES  ii 

that,  if  anyone  could  hire  a  coach,  the  pageantry  of  a 
royal  procession  would  be  shorn  of  much  impressiveness. 
With  the  hope  of  putting  a  check  on  wheeled  carriages, 
Charles  I  endeavoured  to  persuade  his  subjects  to  use 
sedan  chairs,  an  innovation  they  regarded  but  coldly. 
Annoyed  that  he  could  not  make  the  populace  see  eye  to 
eye  with  him  in  this  matter,  the  King  issued  a  proclama- 
tion forbidding  anyone  to  engage  a  hackney-carriage 
unless  for  the  purpose  of  going  at  least  three  miles  out 
of  town. 

Business  enterprise  of  any  description  necessarily 
languished  during  the  strenuous  years  of  the  Civil  War, 
but  with  the  Restoration  hackney-coaches  increased 
and  multiplied,  though  Charles  II,  who  loved  them  little 
more  than  his  father  had  done,  did  his  unsuccessful  best 
to  put  them  down. 

Pepys  in  his  diary  for  November  1669  notes : 
*'  Notwithstanding  that  this  was  the  first  day  of  the 
King's  proclamation  against  hackney-coaches  coming 
into  the  streets  to  stand  for  hire,  yet  I  got  one  to  carry 
me  home." 

That  the  narrow  streets  of  old  London  were  over- 
crowded it  is  easy  to  believe,  for  at  one  time  there  were 
more  than  2000^  of  these  hackney-coaches.  Neither 
were  the  drivers  any  too  considerate  for  the  public 
safety,  according  to  a  curious  old  tradf  entitled  "Coach 

^  In  April  1633  the  poor  widows  of  hackney-coachmen  peti- 
tioned for  some  relief,  as  the  Parliament  had  reduced  the  number 
of  coaches  to  400  :  there  were  before  in  and  about  London  more 
than  2000.  T.  Rugges,  Diurnal. 


12  THE   COACHING   ERA 

and  Sedan,"  which  requests  the  drivers  to  "Leave  in 
any  case  that  ill  habit  ye  have  of  running  over  people  in 
a  dark  night,  and  then  bid  them  stand  up!" 

Pedestrians  of  those  days,  either  by  custom  or  the 
toughness  of  their  constitutions,  seem  to  have  become 
used  to  such  misadventures,  for  Pepys  recounts  how  he 
saw  a  coach  run  over  a  man's  neck,  but  who  got  up 
seeming  none  the  worse  for  the  experience. 

The  coaching  era  had  undoubtedly  begun  and  the 
alarmists  of  the  period  rushed  into  print  on  the  subjedl. 
Their  fathers,  grandfathers,  and  great-grandfathers, 
to  go  no  further  back,  had  been  content  to  exist  without 
such  luxuries,  but  considered  the  back  of  a  horse  the 
right  place  for  a  man  of  courage.  Should  the  present 
generation  presume  to  question  the  wisdom  of  their 
revered  ancestors  on  this  subjedl?  It  was  presumption 
even  to  suggest  such  a  thing. 

John  Taylor,  one  of  the  Thames  watermen^  who  were 
nearly  ruined  by  the  introdudion  of  coaches,  launched 
out  very  bitterly  against  them.  Taylor,  when  he  found 
his  trade  was  threatened,  took  to  writing;  his  output 
was  prodigious,  and  though  not  of  high  Hterary  merit, 
materially  helps  later  generations  to  reconstru6l  the 
times  in  which  he  lived.  He  was  so  bitten  with  poetry 
that  he  would  never  write  in  prose  if  he  could  help  it, 
and  an  added  grievance  against  the  coach  was  that  so 
few  words  would  rhyme  with  it.  Encroach  did,  however, 

1  Before  the  introdudion  of  coaches  the  river  had  been  the 
chief  highway  of  the  city.  "Up  and  by  water  to  Whitehall"  is  a 
constantly  recurring  phrase  in  the  early  part  of  Pepys' s  Diary. 


EARLY   COACHES  13 

and  Taylor  made  the  most  of  it,  saying  "the  word  en- 
croach, I  think,  that  best  befits  it,  for  I  think  there  never 
was  such  an  impudent,  proud,  saucie  intruder  came  into 
the  world  as  a  coach  is." 

He  then  went  on  to  impute  every  imaginable  evil  to 
the  pernicious  influence  of  the  coach,  "for  it  had  driven 
many  honest  families  out  of  their  houses,  many  knights  to 
beggars,  corporations  to  poverty,  almsdeeds  to  mis- 
deedes,  hospitality  to  extortion,  plenty  to  famine, 
humility  to  pride,  compassion  to  oppression,  and  all 
earthly  goodness  almost  to  utter  confusion." 

Taylor  was  of  the  opinion  that  anything  on  wheels 
was  put  to  an  improper  use  when  carrying  live  things; 
he  grudgingly  admitted  that  they  might  be  useful  for 
conveying  stone,  timber,  corn,  wine  and  other  merchan- 
dise, for  "they  are  dead  and  cannot  go  on  foot,  so  must 
be  carried."  For  any  person  possessing  a  full  comple- 
ment of  legs,  to  travel  in  a  coach  was  a  disgrace  un- 
speakable, and  Taylor's  eyes,  in  consequence,  must  have 
been  offended  a  hundred  times  a  day,  for  in  spite  of 
all  he  could  say  the  popularity  of  coaches  increased. 

Coachmen,  too,  came  in  for  a  large  measure  of  his 
hatred  and  he  contrasted  them  unfavourably  with 
carmen,  in  so  much  that  they  had  the  awful  presumption 
to  ride,  whilst  the  carmen  walked  on  foot,  and,  according 
to  Taylor,  if  his  horses  were  afflicted  with  a  fit  of  melan- 
choly— which,  considering  the  state  of  the  roads  and 
constru6lion  of  the  waggons,  cannot  have  been  very 
infrequent — he  would  "whistle  him  into  a  fit  of  mirth." 

In  the  provinces,  travelling  was  still  primitive,  and  the 


14  THE   COACHING  ERA 

first  inception  of  a  public  conveyance  can  be  traced  back 
to  carriers'  vans  which  moved  slowly  from  place  to  place 
carrying  merchandise,  and  giving  occasional  lifts  to 
peasants  by  the  way.  From  this  beginning  came  the 
great  cumbersome  waggons  which  gradually  began  to 
travel  to  and  from  the  country  districts  and  London. 
These  huge  wains,  with  tyres  a  foot  or  more  in  breadth, 
usually  travelled  in  companies,  for  support  in  case  of 
robbery,  and  assistance  when  they  stuck  fast  in  the  mud, 
as  they  did  two  or  three  times  a  day.  Little  provision 
was  made  for  the  passengers,  who  shared  the  interior 
with  bulky  merchandise,  and  bumped  and  jolted  against 
each  other,  as  the  waggon  groaned  and  creaked  on  its 
way  at  the  rate  of  a  couple  of  miles  an  hour. 

The  waggoner  either  walked  or  rode  beside  his  team, 
which  was  rarely,  if  ever,  changed  during  the  journey, 
so  that  it  is  little  wonder  the  pace  was  slow,  andt  hat, 
however  ill-assorted,  the  unfortunate  travellers  had  to 
put  up  with  close  companionship  for  five  or  six  days  at 
a  time.  These  waggons  usually  travelled  only  by  day 
and  stopped  the  night  at  some  inn  where  the  passengers 
were  provided  with  supper  at  sixpence  a  head,  and 
accommodated  for  the  night  in  a  large  room  or  loft. 

Monsieur  Soulbriere,  a  Frenchman  who  came  to 
England  in  the  reign  of  Charles  H,  says:  "I  went  from 
Dover  to  London  in  a  waggon.  It  was  drawn  by  six 
horses  placed  one  after  another,  and  driven  by  a  waggoner 
who  walked  by  the  side  of  them.  He  was  clothed  in 
black,  and  affronted  in  all  things  like  another  St.  George. 
He  had  a  brave  monteror  on  his  head,  and  was  a  merry 


EARLY   COACHES  15 

fellow,  fancied  he  made  a  figure,  and  seemed  mightily 
pleased  with  himself." 

These  stage  waggons,  although  humble  conveyances 
and  looked  on  with  contempt  by  their  later  rivals,  the 
coaches,  yet  continued  stolidly  on  their  way  and,  from 
the  nature  of  their  patrons,  suffered  so  little  from 
competition  that  they  outlasted  their  more  showy  rivals 
by  many  years.  Even  now,  when  stage-coaches  have 
long  ceased  to  be,  the  carriers'  vans  which  ply  to  and 
from  the  country  towns  to  remote  hamlets  can  lay  claim 
to  being  a  diredl  survival  of  the  oldest  form  of  public 
conveyance. 


CHAPTER  II  STAGE-COACHES 

FROM  hackney-coaches  and  stage  -  waggons, 
stage  -  coaches  were  a  natural  transition,  and 
though  it  is  impossible  to  assign  the  exadt  date 
of  their  introdudlion  it  was  probably  about  the 
year  1640.  A  play  called  The  Committee  though 
first  acted  in  1665,  portrays  the  customs  and  habits  of 
the  reign  of  Charles  I,  and  in  the  opening  scene  the 
coachmen  and  passengers  of  the  Reading  stage-coach 
enter.  The  coachman  receives  his  tip  "a  groat  of  more 
than  ordinary  thinness,"  as  he  scathingly  terms  it,  and  a 
lady,  anxious  to  impress  the  rest  of  the  company,  laments 
that  her  own  coach  is  out  of  repair,  declaring  her  hus- 
band would  be  furious  if  he  knew  she  rode  in  a  public 
coach. 

The  first  authentic  reference  comes  from  a  most 
unlikely  quarter — from  John  Taylor.  Apparently  he  had 
overcome  his  bitter  hatred  of  hackney-coaches — which 
he  used  to  refer  to  as  "hell  carts" — for  in  1548  he 
managed  to  write  of  a  stage-coach  without  one  abusive 
adjeftive: 

"Myself  in  proper  person  took  this  journey; 

Two  gentlewomen  (by  two  maids  attended) 

Accompanied  me  till  my  travels  ended, 

We  took  one  coach,  two  coachmen,  and  foure  horses, 

And  merrily  from  London  made  our  courses. 

We  wheel'd  the  top  of  th'  heavy  hill  called  Holborne 

(Up  which  hath  full  many  a  sinful  soul  borne) 

And  so  along  we  jolted  past  St.  Gileses, 

Which  place  from  Brainford  six  (or  neare)  seven  miles  is. 

16 


STAGE-COACHES  17 

To  Stanes  at  night  at  five  o'clock  we  coasted, 
Where,  at  the  Bush  we  had  bak'd,  boil'd  and  roasted. 
Bright  Sol's  illustrious  Rayes  the  day  adorning, 
We  past  Bagshot  and  Bawbaw  Friday  morning. 
That  night  we  lodged  at  the  White  Hart  at  Alton, 
And  had  good  meate — a  table  with  a  salt  on. 
Next  morn  we  arose  with  blushing  cheeked  Aurora; 
The  wayes  were  fair,  but  not  so  fair  as  Flora, 
For  Flora  was  a  goddesse,  and  a  woman, 
And  (like  the  highways)  to  all  men  was  common. 
Our  horses  with  the  coach,  which  we  went  into 
Did  hurry  us  amaine,  through  thick  and  thin  too; 
With  fiery  speed,  the  foaming  bit  they  champt  on. 
And  brought  us  to  the  Dolphin  at  Southampton." 

This,  then,  is  the  earliest  account  of  a  stage-coach 
journey,  and,  really,  if  the  writer  had  been  anyone 
but  a  Thames  waterman,  it  would  almost  seem  as  if  he 
had  enjoyed  the  experience.  Notwithstanding  the  fiery 
speed  at  which  they  travelled,  it  took  them  three  days 
to  go  from  London  to  Southampton,  though  they 
started  each  morning  at  an  unconscionably  early  hour. 

If  Taylor  had  overcome  his  hatred  of  coaches,  his 
place  as  public  alarmist  was  as  adequately  filled  by  one 
John  Cressel,  who  in  1673,  when  there  were  but  six  stage- 
coaches in  the  land,  wrote  a  pamphlet  calling  for  their 
suppression. 

The  indi6lments  which  he  arrayed  against  them  now 
constitute  the  strongest  arguments  in  their  favour,  and 
we  realize  what  an  immense  boon  the  introdu6fion  of 
stage-coaches  was  to  the  nation  at  large.  According  to 
him,  the  nation  was  fast  sinking  into  such  a  state  of 

2 


i8  THE   COACHING   ERA 

effeminate  degeneracy  that  after  riding  a  few  times  in 
coaches  men  became  unwilHng  to  perform  long  journeys 
on  horseback.  They  were  no  longer  "able  to  endure 
frost,  snow  or  rain,  or  to  lodge  in  the  fields"^  as  had  afore 
time  been  their  pleasing  portion  when  benighted  by  the 
way.  All  this,  too,  that  they  might  "save  their  fine 
clothes  and  keep  themselves  clean  and  dry." 

Nor  was  this  all.  "For  the  passage  to  London  being 
so  easy,  gentlemen  came  to  London  oftener  than  they 
need,  and  their  ladies  either  with  them  or,  having  the 
convenience  of  the  coaches,  quickly  follow  them.  And, 
when  they  are  there,  they  must  be  in  the  mode,  having  all 
the  new  fashions,  buy  all  their  clothes  there,  and  go  to 
plays,  balls  and  treats,  where  they  get  such  a  habit  of 
jollity  and  love  of  gaiety  and  pleasure,  that  nothing  will 
afterwards  serve  them,  if  ever  they  should  fix  their 
minds  to  live  there  again;  but  they  must  have  all  from 
London  whatever  it  costs." 

What  was  John  Cressel's  special  grievance  against 
coaches  can  only  be  surmised;  he  may  have  been  victim- 
ized by  country  cousins,  who,  greatly  undesired,  came  up 
in  relays  by  the  six  stage-coaches  to  visit  him;  at  any 
rate  he  expended  all  his  eloquence  in  trying  to  prove 
how  much  better  it  would  be  for  people  living  in  the 
provinces  to  stop  there.  In  case  his  scathing  insinuations 
as  to  their  manhood  should  not  have  the  desired  effe6l,  he 
pretended  an  affe6lionate  solicitude  for  their  health, 
and  endeavoured  to  point  out  the  manifold  dangers  they 

1  "The  Grand  Concern  of  England  Explained."  Harleian 
Miscellany,  Vol.  VIII. 


STAGE-COACHES  19 

subjedled  themselves  to  by  using  a  stage-coach.  It  was 
neither  advantageous  for  men's  health  nor  business, 
"to  be  laid  fast  in  foul  ways,  and  to  be  forced  to  wade 
up  to  the  knee  in  mire;  afterwards  to  sit  in  the  cold  till 
teams  of  horses  can  be  sent  to  pull  the  coach  out!  Is  it 
for  the  health  to  travel  in  rotten  coaches,  and  to  have  the 
tackle  or  pearch,  or  axletree  broken,  and  then  to  wait 
three  or  four  hours,  sometimes  half  a  day  to  have  them 
mended?" 

"To  be  called  out  of  bed  into  coaches  an  hour  before 
day,  and  to  be  hurried  about  in  coaches  till  two  or  three 
hours  within  night.  Stifled  with  heat  and  choked  with 
dust  in  summer.  Starving  or  freezing  with  cold  in 
winter,  or  choked  with  filthy  fogs.  Often  brought  to 
inns  by  torch  light  when  it  is  too  late  to  sit  up  and  get 
supper,  and  next  morning  forced  into  the  coach  so  early 
they  can  get  no  breakfast."  The  exceeding  discomfort  of 
these  statements  rather  detradls  from  the  luxury  of 
coaching  which  was  Cressel's  theme  at  the  beginning  of 
his  pamphlet. 

Chamberlayne,  in  his  Present  State  of  Great  Britain, 
published  in  1673,  expressed  very  different  sentiments: 
"There  is  of  late  such  an  admirable  commodiousness 
for  both  men  and  women  in  the  country,  that  the  like 
hath  not  been  known  in  all  the  world,  and  that  is  by 
stage-coaches  wherein  anyone  may  be  transported  to  any 
place,  sheltered  from  foul  weather,  foul  ways,  free  from 
endamaging  one's  health  and  one's  body  by  hard  jogging 
or  over  violent  motion." 

The  first  coach  between  Oxford  and  London  took  two 


20  THE   COACHING  ERA 

days  to  do  the  journey,  but  in  1669  bills  were  posted 
about  the  city  to  inform  prospe6tive  travellers  of  a  rival 
coach. 

"These  are  to  give  notice  that  every  day  in  the  week 
there  will  be  a  coach  set  out  at  six  o'clock  in  the  morning 
from  Thomas  Moor's  house  over  against  All  Souls  Col- 
lege in  Oxford  which  shall  commodiously  perform  the 
whole  journey  to  London  in  one  day,  and  from  the 
Saracens  Head  on  Snow  Hill  London  to  Oxford  again 
the  next  day,  and  so  constantly  for  this  summer  half  year. 
If  God  Permit." 

The  Vice-Chancellor  ruled  Oxford  despotically  in 
those  days,  so  great  was  his  indignation  when  another 
coach  was  put  on  the  road  without  his  express  permis- 
sion, and  he  instantly  issued  a  proclamation  which 
was  stuck  up  in  every  corner  of  the  town. 

"These  are  to  give  notice  that  whereas  Thomas  Dye 
and  John  Fossett  have,  without  licence  from  me,  and  in 
contempt  of  the  Chancellor,  masters  and  scholars  of  the 
University  (to  whom  the  ordering  and  giving  of  all 
carriers  of  what  kind  soever,  trading  to  or  with  the 
University  and  city  of  Oxford  doth  of  right  belong) 
presumed  to  set  up  a  flying  coach  to  travail  from  hence 
to  London.  These  are  to  require  all  scholars,  priviledged 
persons  and  members  of  the  University,  not  to  travail 
in  the  said  coach  set  up  by  Thomas  Dye  and  John 
Fossett,  not  to  send  letters  or  any  goods  whatsoever  by 
the  aforesaid  flying  coach."  P.  Mews,  Vice-Chancellor. 

That  the  early  stage-coaches  were  about  as  uncom- 
fortable as  they  could  well  be,  we  have  proof  in  a  letter 


o 


y.    -^ 


W^ 

p 

|Ldl 

■ 

p 

1 

r 

^jT'^^^^H 

1 

-    ^ 


STAGE-COACHES  21 

written  by  a  traveller  named  Edward  Parker  in  1663, 
which  recounts  his  harrowing  expeiiences,  and  his 
determination  never  to  go  in  a  coach  again  if  he  can 
help  it: 

"Honoured  Father, 

"M7  dutie  promised  etc.  I  got  to  London  on 
Saturday  last,  my  journie  was  noe  ways  pleasant,  being 
forced  to  ride  in  the  boote  all  the  waye,  ye  company  up 
with  mee  were  persons  of  great  quality,  as  knights  and 
ladyes.  My  journeys  expense  was  30s.  This  travail  hath 
soe  indisposed  mee,  that  I  am  resolved  never  to  ride  up 
again  in  ye  coatch.  I  am  extremely  hott  and  feverish, 
what  this  may  tend  to  I  know  not.  I  have  not  yet  advised 
with  any  doctor."^ 

It  is  probable  that  Edward  Parker's  sufferings  were  by 
no  means  unique,  and  that  after  one  experience  of  the 
manifold  discomforts  of  the  stage-coach  men  preferred 
to  return  once  more  to  the  use  of  their  saddle-horses. 
There  was  also  the  motive  of  economy  in  this  method  of 
progression,  for  horses  purchased  cheaply  in  the  pro- 
vinces could  be  sold  at  a  profit  when  the  rider  reached 
London,  an  advantage  which  the  canny  Scots  in  partic- 
ular are  said  to  have  keenly  appreciated. 

The  earliest  stage-coaches  were  fearful  and  wonderful 
to  behold,  for  they  were  the  last  word  in  heaviness  and 
clumsiness.  The  body  was  built  to  carry  six  or  eight 
persons,  who,  though  they  had  every  reason  to  be  thank- 
ful in  that  they  had  a  roof  over  their  heads,  had  to  put 
up  with  leather  shutters  in  lieu  of  windows,  for  it  was 

^  Archeslogiaj  XX. 


22  THE   COACHING  ERA 

not  till  1680  that  glass  was  used  for  that  purpose.  The 
coachman's  lot  was  an  unenviable  one,  for  he  sat  on  a 
bar  between  the  two  standard  posts  from  which  the 
coach  was  hung,  with  his  feet  on  a  board  fixed  to  the 
top  of  the  porch.  Behind  the  coach  was  the  "Basket,"  a 
huge  wicker-work  strudlure,  originally  intended  for  the 
carriage  of  luggage,  and  amongst  which  the  outside 
passengers  sat  in  exquisite  discomfort. 

As  was  only  to  be  expelled,  these  unwieldy  vehicles 
frequently  overset,  and  Ralph  Thoresby,  the  antiquary, 
who  travelled  much  on  horseback,  but  took  coach 
occasionally,  always  did  so  with  the  liveliest  apprehen- 
sion and,  as  five  coaches  were  overturned  in  one  day,  he 
had  definite  grounds  for  alarm.  That  even  the  early 
coaches  were  popular  on  the  road  we  gather  from  a  brief 
notice  he  gives  of  one  of  them  in  connexion  with  the 
annual  May  Day  festivities: 

"We  dined  at  Grantham;  had  the  usual  solemnity 
(this  being  the  first  time  the  coach  passed  the  road  in 
May)  of  the  coachmen  and  horses  being  decked  with 
ribbons  and  flowers,  the  town  music,  and  young  people 
in  couples  before  us." 

By  the  end  of  the  century  coaching  had  become  a 
national  institution,  and  in  a  1680  newspaper  a  house 
advertised  to  let  at  Eltham  in  Kent  holds  out  the 
inducement,  "there  going  a  stage-coach  thither  every 
day."  Hatfield  Parsonage  too — "In  which  house  persons 
of  quality  and  reputation  have  lived" — claimed  that 
"both  coaches  and  waggons  go  every  other  day."  In 


STAGE-COACHES  23 

June  1668  Pepys  says:  "All  the  five  coaches  that  come 
this  day  from  Bath,  as  well  as  we,  were  gone  out  of  the 
town  before  six." 

Improvement  in  construction  and  pace  of  the  early- 
coaches  was  slow,  three  or  four  miles  an  hour  being  the 
recognized  rate  of  progress,  and  owing  to  the  state  of  the 
roads  "it  happened  almost  every  day  that  coaches  stuck 
fast,  until  a  team  of  cattle  could  be  procured  from  some 
neighbouring  farm,  to  tug  them  out  of  the  slough."  ^ 
Passengers  to  lighten  the  draught  were  often  obliged  to 
walk  for  miles  together,  and  in  1689  a  Dutchman  died  in 
the  Oxford  stage-coach  from  his  exertion  in  walking  up 
Shotover  Hill.  People  in  a  hurry  would  refuse  the  offer 
of  a  lift  in  a  coach  with  the  very  reasonable  excuse  that 
they  had  no  time  to  waste,  whilst  pedlars  and  packmen 
would  often  keep  pace  alongside  the  coach  displaying 
their  wares. 

In  the  year  1700  it  took  a  week  to  get  from  London 
to  York;  whilst  Exeter  was  five  days'  journey,  and  Salis- 
bury two.  Some  idea  of  the  leisurely  pace  at  which  the 
old  stage-coaches  used  to  travel  before  the  age  of  com- 
petition began  may  be  gathered  from  the  faft  related  by 
one  traveller  that,  when  the  Exeter  coach  stopped  at 
Axminster  for  breakfast,  "a  woman  barber  shaved  the 
coach."  Another  time,  a  coachman  and  guard  having  a 
difference  of  opinion,  the  coach  halted  and  the  passengers 
watched  them  fight  it  out  on  the  road. 

The  Edinburgh  coach,  which  took  ten  days  in  summer 
and  twelve  in  winter  to  get  to  London,  made  an  an- 

^  Macaulay. 


24  THE   COACHING  ERA 

nouncement  in  1754  that,  for  the  better  accommodation 
of  its  passengers,  it  would  in  future  be  hung  on  steel 
springs.  At  about  the  same  time  Manchester  made  a 
bold  bid  for  popularity  by  claiming  that,  "However  in- 
credible it  may  appear,  this  coach  will  actually  arrive  in 
London  in  four  days  and  a  half  after  leaving  Manchester." 
So  great  did  they  consider  this  acceleration  of  speed 
that,  with  inflated  pride,  they  advertised  the  venture 
as  a  "Flying  Coach." 

Other  proprietors,  not  willing  to  be  behind  the  times, 
proceeded  to  increase  their  speed  to  five  miles  an 
hour,  and  in  consequence  dubbed  their  coaches  flying- 
coaches,  or  even  flying-machines,  the  newspapers 
containing  such  announcements  as  "The  Gloucester 
flying-machine  on  steel  springs,  begins  flying  next 
Monday  for  the  summer  season."  Charles  Matthews  the 
actor,  after  a  tedious  journey  in  one  of  these  conveyances, 
ironically  remarked:  "I  suppose  they  are  called  flying- 
coaches,  because  they  are  the  slowest  things  that  ever 
crawled." 

Though  the  proprietors  were  ready  enough  to  promise 
amazing  things  in  the  matter  of  speed,  they  entertained 
grave  doubts  as  to  their  ability  to  perform  them,  and 
that  in  such  cases  they  might  not  be  held  solely  respon- 
sible they  added  a  proviso  "if  God  permits,"  or  "if  roads 
are  good." 

The  flying-coaches  were  essentially  fair  weather 
vehicles,  and  at  the  end  of  the  summer  they  issued 
notices  of  the  following  description:  "The  Proprietors 
of  the  Stroud  coach  beg  leave  to  inform  their  friends 


STAGE-COACHES  25 

and  the  public  in  general,  that  the  coach  left  off  flying  on 
Saturday  the  14th  of  Oftober  instant." 

With  the  spring  they  once  more  took  the  roadj  and  on 
May  20th,  1682,  the  City  Mercury  contained  the  fol- 
lowing announcement: 

"The  coach  that  went  last  year  to  Epsom  every 
morning  from  the  George  in  the  Stocks  Market  and 
vidfualling  house,  will  begin  on  Thursday  the  first  of 
June,  and  goes  to  Mr.  Tonsers,  a  barber,  next  door  to  the 
new  King's  Head  in  Epsom,  and  returns  the  same  day." 

The  few  that  had  the  temerity  to  keep  the  road 
through  the  winter  had  many  difficulties  to  contend 
with,  for,  putting  aside  the  heavy  snow-storms  which 
obliged  them  to  lie  up  for  days  together,  they  were  in 
constant  danger  from  floods,  and  there  were  many 
instances  of  coaches  being  overturned  and  passengers 
drowned.  A  newspaper  of  the  time  thus  brieiiy  refers 
to  an  appalling  state  of  things  in  Yorkshire: 

"There  has  been  abundance  of  mischief  done  by  the 
late  flood  and  rains,  several  coaches  and  horses,  and 
divers  men  and  women  in  Yorkshire  having  lately  been 
lost  thereby,  with  waggons  and  cattle  of  all  sorts,  and  it 
is  said  that  two  post-boys  are  drowned  also." 

Considering  the  dangers  and  difficulties  that  beset 
travellers  in  those  days,  a  journey  by  coach  occasioned 
much  thought  and  anxiety.  The  passengers,  no  doubt, 
hoped  most  fervently  that  the  coach  would  not  be 
upset,  or  robbed  by  highwaymen,  and  that  the  coachman 
was  not  in  league  with  the  innkeepers  to  defraud  them. 


26  THE   COACHING   ERA 

As  these  things  happened  every  day,  they  had  but  little 
hope  of  escaping  all  of  them,  and  had  every  reason  to  be 
thankful  if  they  arrived  at  their  destination  within  two 
or  three  days  of  the  time  so  glibly  promised  by  the 
proprietors,  without  broken  limbs,  and  with  little  money 
left  in  their  pockets. 

They  set  out  armed  with  fire-arms,  and  no  doubt 
with  a  grim  determination  to  use  them  on  the  person  of 
the  first  highwayman  who  appeared  at  the  coach  door 
with  an  impolite  request  for  the  travellers'  purses  and 
valuables.  As  a  matter  of  faft,  they  very  rarely  made  use 
of  their  weapons,  but  meekly  parted  with  their  goods. 

There  were  occasional  exceptions  to  this  amiable 
compliance  with  unjust  demands,  for  when  the  Leeds 
coach  was  attacked  in  1769  the  Oxford  Journal  tells  how 
a  bold  and  intrepid  passenger  drew  out  his  blunderbuss 
and  fired  at  the  robber.  Whether  the  highwayman  was 
wounded  or  merely  astounded  at  meeting  with  resist- 
ance is  uncertain,  but  at  any  rate  he  hurriedly  dis- 
mounted and  took  to  his  heels.  The  passengers,  still 
rather  dazed  at  the  utterly  unexpe61:ed  turn  of  events, 
got  out  of  the  coach  and  sought  wildly  for  the  highway- 
man in  the  darkness.  Being  unable  to  see,  but  deter- 
mined to  have  a  captive  highwayman  as  proof  positive 
of  their  doughty  deed,  they  seized  one  of  their  com- 
panions and,  paying  not  the  slightest  heed  to  his  struggles, 
bound  him  securely,  and  consigned  him  ignominiously  to 
the  Basket.  They  then  resumed  their  places,  and  talked 
vaingloriously,  and  thought  deliciously  of  the  reward 
that  was  paid  for  the  capture  of  a  highwayman.  At 


STAGE-COACHES  27 

the  next  stage,  however,  their  pleasant  dreams  were 
rudely  dispelled,  for  the  inconsiderate  passenger  in 
the  Basket  protested  that  he  was  no  highwayman  and, 
being  able  to  prove  incontestably  that  this  was  indeed 
so,  they  were  relu6lantly  obliged  to  release  him. 

The  coachmen  of  those  days  regarded  the  highway- 
man with  no  unfriendly  eye,  and  were  suspe6led  of 
being  occasionally  in  league  with  him.  That  they  made 
good  bargains  with  the  innkeepers  is  beyond  doubt, 
and  the  coach  passengers  dined,  slept,  breakfasted  and 
consumed  frequent  draughts  of  ale  not  by  any  means  at 
the  best  inns,  but  at  those  the  coachmen  arbitrarily 
decreed  that  they  should  patronize,  and  where  they  were 
often  overcharged  and  ill-catered  for.  The  coachman 
being  a  person  of  much  authority  on  the  road,  his  vi6lims 
grumbled  but  submitted,  fearing  worse  to  come,  like  the 
coach  passengers  in  "The  Beaux  Stratagem": 

Landlord:  "The  Company  of  the  Warrington  coach 
has  stood  in  the  hall  this  hour,  and  nobody 
to  show  them  to  their  chambers  .  .  .  they 
threaten  to  go  to  another  inn." 

Cherry:  "That  they  dare  not,  for  fear  the  coachman 
should  overturn  them  to-morrow." 

Once,  being  stirred  up  to  revolt  by  a  companion  of 
more  than  ordinary  braveness,  the  passengers  marched 
boldly  out  of  the  tavern  sele£led  for  them,  and  walked 
along  the  road  till  they  came  to  one  which  took  their 
fancy  better.  The  coachman,  furious  at  this  flagrant 
rebellion,  determined  to  give  them  a  lesson,  mounted  his 
box  and  drove  past  the  house  where  they  were  refreshing 


28  THE   COACHING   ERA 

themselves.  He  ignored  the  inn  and  his  mutinous  pas- 
sengers, who  strove  frantically  to  attraft  his  attention, 
and  departed  leaving  them  to  continue  their  journey 
as  best  they  could.  They  did  get  back  to  London  some- 
how, and  eventually  brought  an  action  against  him  at  the 
King's  Bench  when  they  were  awarded  ^20  damages. 

Undoubtedly,  early  coach  travelling  had  many  draw- 
backs, not  the  least  among  them  being  the  extreme 
easiness  with  which  the  coach  upset,  an  instance  of  which 
is  exemplified  by  an  entry  in  John  Wesley's  diary  1775. 
"Before  nine,  a  gentleman  in  a  single  horse  chaise  struck 
his  wheel  against  one  of  ours.  Instantly  the  weight  at 
the  top  overset  the  coach;  otherwise  ten  times  the  shock 
would  not  have  moved  it;  but  neither  the  coachman  nor 
the  men  on  the  top,  nor  any  within,  were  hurt  at  all." 

The  idea  of  utilizing  the  roof  as  a  place  of  transit 
undoubtedly  originated  in  some  one  to  whom  travel  was 
imperative  on  an  occasion  when  both  the  inside  of  the 
coach  and  the  Basket  were  fully  occupied.  What  one 
adventurous  spirit  could  do  others  were  ready  to  imitate, 
and  the  roof  of  the  coach  became  a  recognized  place  for 
soldiers,  sailors  and  others  hardened  to  danger,  who 
wished  to  ride  cheaply.  At  first  no  provision  was  made 
for  their  safety,  but  somewhat  later  proprietors  provided 
handles,  or  occasionally  a  rail  round  the  roof  of  the 
coach  to  give  them  some  slight  feeling  of  security. 

The  relative  positions  of  the  passengers  were  gauged 
to  a  nicety  by  the  coachman's  formula  when  hills  were 
steep  or  roads  more  than  usually  bad:  "First  Class 
passengers  (inside)  keep  your  seats;  Second  Class  passen- 


STAGE-COACHES  29 

gers  (in  the  Basket)  get  out  and  walk;  Third  Class 
passengers  (on  the  roof)  get  down  and  push  behind." 

In  the  reign  of  George  III,  coaching,  though  still  to 
be  avoided  if  possible,  was  a  great  improvement  on  what 
had  gone  before.  The  coaches  themselves  had  altered 
somewhat  in  construction,  the  front  and  hind  boots 
began  to  be  framed  to  the  body  of  the  coach,  and  seats 
were  placed  on  the  roof.  The  driver's  seat  was  raised 
higher,  but  still  unprovided  with  springs  and,  as  Wilkins 
of  the  Balloon  told  Frank  Raby,  "There  is  a  great  deal 
of  h'art  in  sitting  on  a  coach-box."^  This  is  confirmed 
by  the  Oxford  Journal  for  1779,  which  reports  an  acci- 
dent to  the  Bristol  Mail,  caused  by  the  coachman  being 
"shooke  off  the  box." 

The  rate  of  speed  was  nominally  increased  to  six  miles 
an  hour  for  fast  coaches,  but  the  coachmen  considered 
themselves  in  no  wise  tied  down  to  a  fixed  time  and, 
though  a  coach  might  be  due  at  a  definite  hour,  the 
coachman  questioned  on  the  subje6l  would  reply  easily 
that  he  had  been  every  hour  of  the  twenty-four  after  it. 
He  was  particularly  obliging  with  regard  to  meals,  and 
allowed  his  passengers  to  take  their  time  over  them,  so 
that  though  an  hour  was  the  time  specified  for  dinner  it 
not  infrequently  lengthened  into  two,  the  coachman 
being  generally  ready  to  help  drink  another  bottle  of 
wine,  remarking  comfortably  of  the  coach,  "she  could 
wait  she  could." 

A  man  who  tipped  liberally  in  those  days  could 
accomplish  much:  visit  his  friends  who  lived  near  the 
^  Life  of  a  Sportsman.  Nimrod. 


30  THE   COACHING   ERA 

high  road,  or  wait  and  explore  any  place  of  interest 
through  which  the  coach  passed. 

The  roads,  though  still  bad,  had  been  considerably- 
improved  by  the  turnpike  acts,  and  it  slowly  dawned  on 
coach  proprietors  that  the  speed  of  their  coaches  was 
sensibly  increased  by  changing  horses  occasionally,  in- 
stead of  causing  the  same  unfortunate  animals  to  perform 
the  entire  journey.  The  stages,  however,  were  still 
incredibly  long,  fifteen  or  twenty  miles  for  one  team 
being  considered  by  no  means  excessive. 


CHAPTER  III  MAIL-COACHES 

ASTE,  post  haste,  haste  with  all  diligence. 
For  thy  life,  for  thy  life,"  was  the  urgent 
superscription  on  ofHcial  letters  in  Tudor 
times.  This  should  have  spurred  the  mes- 
sengers on  to  great  endeavours,  but  did  not,  for  the 
post-boys,  either  on  foot  or  on  horseback,  lagged  and 
loitered  throughout  the  whole  course  of  their  existence. 
When  George  III  was  King  the  postal  arrangements 
of  the  country  were  about  as  bad  as  they  could  be,  for 
the  mails  were  entrusted  "to  some  idle  boy,  without 
charadler,  mounted  on  a  worn-out  hack.''^ 

"He  comes,  the  herald  of  a  noisy  world, 

With  spattered  boots,  strapped  waist  and  frozen  locks, 

News  from  all  nations  lumbering  on  his  back. 

True  to  his  charge,  the  close  packed  load  behind, 

Yet  careless  what  he  brings,  his  one  concern 

Is  to  condu£l  it  to  the  destined  inn. 

And  having  dropped  the  expefted  bag  pass  on. 

He  whistles  as  he  goes,  Hght  hearted  wretch 

Cold  and  yet  cheerful;  messenger  of  grief 

Perhaps  to  thousands,  and  of  joy  to  some." 

Cowper,  with  true  poetic  licence,  decidedly  over- 
estimated the  trustworthiness  of  post-boys.  Contem- 
porary evidence  shows  they  were  by  no  means  anxious 
as  to  the  security  of  the  mail-bags,  being  in  truth  far 
more  concerned  for  the  safety  of  their  own  skins.  Indeed, 

1  "A  plan  for  the  Reform  and  Improvement  of  the  General 
Post  Office."  J.  Palmer. 


32  THE   COACHING   ERA 

from  the  obliging  manner  in  which  they  instantly  acceded 
to  the  highwaymen's  request  for  the  mail  to  be  handed 
over  to  them,  the  post-boys  were  by  no  means  unjustly 
suspefted  of  being  actively  in  league  with  them,  having 
come  to  an  arrangement  for  their  mutual  benefit  at  the 
expense  of  the  long  suffering  British  public.  Finally, 
finding  that  the  plea  of  robbery  was  accepted  as  a 
just  and  satisfactory  excuse,  they  improved  upon  the 
occasion  and  tampered  with  the  mail-bags  themselves. 

Though  their  official  rate  of  speed  was  only  five  miles 
an  hour,  the  post-boys  rarely  troubled  themselves  to 
keep  true  time,  but  dawdled  on  the  road,  and  imbibed 
such  frequent  potations  at  the  various  inns  that  the 
arrival  of  the  mail  was  a  matter  for  much  speculation. 

The  post  had,  in  facfl,  attained  the  distindlion  of 
being  the  slowest  and  unsafest  conveyance  in  the 
country.  People  obliged  to  send  money  by  it  were  so 
distrustful  of  the  existing  arrangements  that  they  cut 
their  bank  bills  in  halves  and  sent  them  by  different 
routes. 

Often  rather  than  trust  to  the  post  at  all,  or  if  they 
were  anxious  for  a  letter  to  travel  expeditiously,  they 
made  it  up  into  a  parcel  and  sent  it  by  the  stage-coach, 
being  willing  to  pay  the  extra  carriage  for  the  greater 
security  of  the  conveyance.  "I  write  by  the  coach  the 
more  speedily  and  effe6fually  to  prevent  your  coming 
hither,"  wrote  Mrs.  Thrale  to  Dr.  Johnson  in  1784. 

The  ordinary  cost  of  a  letter  by  post  was  4d.,  if  sent  by 
coach  as  a  parcel  2s.,  or  in  cases  of  special  urgency  even 
more,  for  it  was  the  custom  to  write  on  such  packages — 


MAIL-COACHES  33 

"An  extra  sum  will  be  given  to  the  porter  if  he  deliver 
this  letter  immediately." 

Dickens  refers  to  this  custom  in  The  Pickwick  Pafers: 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "but  I  must  send  a  letter 
to  London  by  some  conveyance,  so  that  it  may  be  de- 
livered the  very  first  thing  in  the  morning  at  all  hazards." 
The  landlord  smiled  his  delight.  Nothing  could  be 
easier  than  for  the  gentleman  to  enclose  a  letter  in  a 
sheet  of  brown  paper  and  send  it  on  either  by  the  mail 
or  night  coach  from  Birmingham.  If  the  gentleman 
was  particularly  anxious  to  have  it  left  as  soon  as  pos- 
sible he  might  write  outside  "To  be  delivered  im- 
mediately" which  was  sure  to  be  attended  to,  or  "P/2y 
the  hearer  half  a  crown  extra  for  immediate  delivery'''  was 
surer  still. 

This  circumstance  eventually  gave  rise  to  the  intro- 
duftion  of  mail-coaches,  whose  inception  was  due  to 
the  inventive  genius  of  one  man,  and  a  man,  moreover, 
who  had  nothing  whatever  to  do  with  postal  affairs. 
This  was  Mr.  John  Palmer,  the  manager  of  the  Bath  and 
Bristol  theatres,  whose  business  suffered  great  incon- 
venience from  the  inadequate  postal  arrangements. 
The  stage-coaches  between  London  and  Bath  did  the 
journey  in  one  day,  whereas  a  letter  took  three.  Mr. 
Palmer,  like  many  of  his  fellow-townsmen,  sent  import- 
ant letters  under  the  guise  of  parcels,  and  it  occurred 
to  him  that  it  would  be  a  very  great  improvement  if, 
in  place  of  the  post-boys,  stage-coaches  with  certain 
modifications  were  made  the  official  carriers  of  His 
Majesty's  Mails. 

The  idea  was  undoubtedly  good,  and  Palmer  drew  up 
3 


34  THE   COACHING  ERA 

a  carefully  thought-out  scheme  entitled,  "A  Plan  for  the 
Reform  and  Improvement  of  the  General  Post  Office," 
which  he  presented  to  Pitt,  then  Chancellor  of  the 
Exchequer. 

Pitt  saw  at  once  the  prafticability  of  the  idea  and, 
charmed  with  the  prospedl  of  considerable  increased 
revenue  it  held  out,  did  all  he  could  to  further  its 
adoption.  Like  most  sweeping  reforms  which  embody 
the  substitution  of  new  for  old,  the  scheme  for  the 
mails  caused  men  to  hold  up  their  hands  in  horror  and 
dismay.  They  declared  if  desperate  men  had  set  their 
hearts  on  having  the  mail-bag  have  it  they  would  and, 
seeing  that  they  were  thoroughly  determined  on  the 
matter,  resistance  was  useless,  and  it  was  much  better  to 
give  in  without  unnecessary  fuss,  as  witness  the  post- 
boys. Whereas  if  the  guard  was  armed,  "resistance  would 
lead  to  murder,"  at  the  very  mention  of  which  the 
sensitive  Post  Office  shuddered.  Mr.  Palmer's  observa- 
tions as  to  the  time  in  which  the  stage-coaches  would 
convey  the  mails  were  regarded  as  fantastic  and  wild, 
it  being  impossible  "that  the  Bath  Mail  could  be  brought 
to  London  in  sixteen  or  eighteen  hours." 

It  was  indeed  fortunate  for  John  Palmer  that  he  had 
such  a  strong  partisan  in  Pitt,  who  determined  that  at 
all  events  the  plan  should  have  a  fair  trial.  In  1784  the 
Post  Office  very  sorely  against  its  will,  issued  this  notice: 

"His  Majesty's  post  masters  general,  being  inclined 
to  make  an  experiment  for  the  more  expeditious  convey- 
ance of  mails  of  letters  by  stage-coaches,  machines  etc. 
have  been  pleased  to  order  that  a  trial  should  be  made 


MAIL-COACHES  35 

upon  the  road  between  London  and  Bristol,  to  com- 
mence at  each  place  on  Monday  the  2nd." 

The  first  trial  was  watched  with  anxiety  by  Pitt  and 
Palmer,  eager  for  its  success,  and  by  the  Post  Office, 
praying  for  its  utter  and  humiliating  annihilation.  In 
this  generous  hope  they  were  disappointed,  for  the  under- 
taking prospered  instantly.  It  is  generally  supposed  that 
no  records  exist  giving  particulars  of  this  first  mail- 
coach,  but  the  following  notices  appeared  in  the  Oxford 
Journal  during  August  1784: 

"The  new  mail  diligence  set  off  from  Bristol  on  Mon- 
day last  for  the  first  time  at  four  o'clock,  and  from  the 
Three  Tuns  in  this  city  (Bath)  at  twenty  minutes  after 
five  the  same  evening.  From  London  it  set  out  at  eight 
on  Monday  evening  and  was  in  Bath  the  next  morning. 
The  excellent  steps  taken  to  carry  out  this  undertaking 
leave  not  the  least  room  to  doubt  of  its  succeeding  to 
the  great  pleasure  and  advantage  of  the  public." 

A  week  later  was  recorded  the  complete  success  of  the 
venture  which  had  fulfilled  the  most  sanguine  hopes 
entertained  of  it: 

"The  new  mail-coach  has  travelled  with  an  expedi- 
tion that  has  been  really  astonishing,  having  seldom 
exceeded  thirteen  hours  in  going  or  returning  from 
London.  It  is  made  very  light,  carries  four  passengers 
and  runs  with  a  pair  of  horses,  which  are  changed  every 
six  or  eight  miles;  and  as  the  bags  at  the  different 
offices  on  the  road  are  made  up  against  its  arrival  there 
is  not  the  least  delay.  The  guard  rides  with  the  coach- 
man on  the  box,  and  the  mail  is  deposited  in  the  Boot," 


36  THE   COACHING   ERA 

Mr.  Palmer  was  appointed  Controller  General  of  the 
Post  Office  in  1786,  and  eventually  granted  a  commis- 
sion of  2|  per  cent  upon  any  excess  of  net  revenue 
over  the  sum  at  which  the  annual  proceeds  of  the  Post 
Office  stood  at  the  date  of  appointment.  Eventually  he 
received  a  pension  of  ^3000. 

The  new  Controller  was  an  admirer  of  the  stage- 
coaches, but  in  no  way  blind  to  their  defeats,  and  he 
installed  so  many  improvements  that  coaching  was 
completely  revolutionized.  Palmer  was  a  martinet  for 
punftuality;  stage-coaches  were  not,  and  they  had  to 
alter  their  ways  very  considerably  if  they  wished  for  the 
privilege  of  carrying  His  Majesty's  Mails.  The  mail- 
coaches  were  timed  to  a  minute  at  the  different  stages, 
fresh  horses,  warned  by  the  blast  of  the  guard's  horn, 
stood  ready  waiting,  and  with  lightning  rapidity  were 
put  to  the  coach.  Dinners  had  to  be  despatched  in  the 
brief  period  of  twenty  minutes,  whilst  the  coach  started 
prompt  to  time,  and  coachmen  could  no  longer  be 
cajoled  into  granting  an  extra  hour;  passengers  who 
loitered  on  a  mail-coach  were  simply  left  behind. 

The  stages  were  shortened  and  rarely  exceeded  eight 
miles,  and  better  bred  and  highly  fed  horses  employed, 
by  which  means  the  pace  of  the  coaches  was  very  materi- 
ally increased,  and  the  official  speed  raised  from  eight 
miles  an  hour  to  ten  or  even  twelve.  Time  lost  on  one 
stage  had  to  be  made  up  on  the  next,  and  at  places  where 
the  coach  changed  drivers  unpun6f  uality  was  a  sin  hard  to 
forgive.  "They  ex-p-p-p-p-ped:  me  to  k-k-k-k-k-keep 
t-t-t-t-t-t-time  up,  but  d-d-d-d-d-devil  a  b-b-b-b-bit 


MAIL-COACHES  37 

do  they  bring  any  t-t-t-t-t-time  down,"  spluttered  a 
coachman  of  the  middle  ground,  rendered  almost 
incoherent  by  rage  and  natural  impediment. 

The  first  mail-coaches,  or  rather  stage-coaches  under 
another  name,  were  clumsily  and  badly  constructed,  so 
that  the  accelerated  pace  brought  forth  a  proportionate 
number  of  accidents,  and  people  began  to  eye  them 
askance,  and  to  show  a  growing  disinclination  to  travel 
by  them.  The  indefatigable  Mr.  Palmer  saw  this  and 
remedied  it  by  issuing  an  order  that  in  future  all  the 
mail-coaches  should  be  of  one  pattern  and  of  most  up-to- 
date  construction. 

These  new  coaches  were  much  lighter  than  the  old- 
fashioned  stages  and  designed  to  carry  four  inside  in- 
stead of  six.  Outside  travelling  was  recognized,  but,  the 
chief  objedls  of  the  Post  Office  being  to  keep  the  guard 
in  splendid  isolation,  they  at  first  allowed  only  one 
outside  passenger,  on  the  coach-box  and,  though  sub- 
sequently seats  were  placed  on  the  roof,  none  were 
allowed  at  the  back  of  the  coach  near  the  guard.  The 
idea  was  that  a  highwayman  with  a  keen  eye  to  possi- 
bilities might  engage  the  seat  to  the  subsequent  undoing 
of  the  guard  and  mail-bags,  and  it  was  not  till  the  coach- 
ing era  was  drawing  to  a  close  that  this  regulation  was 
altered. 

The  speed  and  punduality  of  the  coaches  increased 
rapidly  and,  coincident  with  their  improvements,  the 
proprietors  ceased  to  announce  bombastically  that  they 
would  fly,  and  contented  themselves  with  modestly 
announcing  that  they  would  run;  they  might  in  many 


38  THE   COACHING   ERA 

instances  without  unwarrantable  licence  have  announced 
that  they  would  gallop. 

The  Edinburgh  mail  did  its  400  miles  in  forty  hours, 
and  the  other  mails  with  proportionate  despatch.  The 
public  looked  on  and  were  staggered.  It  was  the  awful 
velocity  that  alarmed  them,  and  Lord  Campbell  says: 
"This  swift  travelling  was  considered  dangerous  as  well 
as  wonderful  and  I  was  gravely  advised  to  stay  a  day  at 
York,  as  several  passengers  who  had  gone  through 
without  stopping  died  of  apoplexy  from  the  rapidity  of 
the  motion." 

This  increased  rate  of  travelling  was  very  largely  due 
to  the  great  improvement  which  took  place  in  the  roads 
under  the  Post  Office  supervision,  for  without  the  genius 
of  Mac-Adam,  coaching  could  never  have  attained  to 
the  perfedlion  it  did. 

The  stage-coaches  paid  heavy  tolls,  but  the  mails  were 
exempt  from  this;  a  circumstance  which  made  stage- 
coach proprietors  eager  for  the  privilege  of  carrying  the 
mails,  and  caused  those  who  had  money  invested  in  turn- 
pike securities  to  complain  most  bitterly. 

"The  most  second-sighted  of  your  house  could  never 
have  forseen  that  the  usage  of  the  single  horse  and  post- 
boy afterwards  in  many  places  converted  into  the  light 
Mail-cart  drawn  by  one  horse,  would  be  superseded  by  a 
Royal  carriage  drawn  by  four  horses,  and  filled  by  pas- 
sengers, who  before  rode  in  the  common  stages,  and 
contributed  to  support  the  roads  which  they  passed  over," 
wrote  Mr.  Pennant  in  his  "  Letter  to  a  Member  of 
Parliament  on  Mail-Coaches"  (1792),  calling  attention 


o 


^ 


MAIL-COACHES  39 

to  the  fact  that  the  Post  Office  Insisted  on  the  improve- 
ment of  the  roads,  yet  they  contributed  nothing  towards 
their  upkeep. 

A  toUkeeper  was  bound  to  have  the  gate  open  for  the 
mail  to  go  through,  if  he  negle6led  to  do  so  he  was  liable 
to  a  fine  of  40s.  Should  he  attempt  to  delay  its  passage 
in  any  way  he  could  be  fined  ^5,  whilst  for  a  like  offence 
an  innkeeper  was  deprived  of  his  licence.  An  attempt 
at  robbery  entailed  the  sentence  of  transportation  for 
life,  and  punishments  in  proportion  were  provided  for 
carriers,  and  other  users  of  the  road,  who  did  not  in- 
stantly "give  the  road"  to  the  mails. 

In  consequence  of  these  stringent  rules  and  regulations, 
the  mail-coaches  were  regarded  with  great  veneration, 
turnpikes  flew  open  at  the  sound  of  the  guard's  horn, 
innkeepers  were  deferential,  drivers  of  other  vehicles 
hastened  to  efface  themselves  in  the  nearest  ditch  in 
order  that  His  Majesty's  arrogant  mails  might  keep  to 
the  middle  of  the  road.  Indeed,  a  mail-coach  lighted  by 
powerful  lamps,  thundering  along  at  the  rate  of  ten 
miles  an  hour,  was  no  inconsiderable  thing  to  meet  in  a 
narrow  country  road  on  a  dark  night. 

So  omnipotent  were  the  Mails  that  William  Hazlitt 
declared  that  even  "the  brother-in-law  of  a  mail-coach 
driver  is  himself  no  mean  man,"  whilst  he  regarded  what 
would  have  been  insupportable  discomforts  on  a  stage- 
coach, as  quite  bearable  on  a  mail:  "On  the  outside  of 
any  other  coach  on  the  tenth  of  December,  with  a  Scotch 
mist  drizzling  through  the  cloudy  moonlight  air,  I  should 
have  been  cold,  comfortless,  impatient,  and  no  doubt  wet 


40  THE   COACHING   ERA 

through;  but  seated  on  the  Royal  Mail,  I  felt  warm  and 
comfortable,  the  air  did  me  good,  I  was  pleased  with  the 
progress  we  made,  and  confident  that  all  would  go  well 
through  the  journey." 

The  departure  of  the  mails  became  one  of  the  sights 
of  London,  and  crowds  of  people  assembled  near  the 
General  Post  Office  in  Lombard  Street  every  evening 
at  8  o'clock  when  the  mail-coaches  drove  up  in  double 
file  to  receive  their  mail-bags. 

This  assemblage  of  mails  was  a  sight  to  remember: 
the  handsome  crimson  coaches  with  the  Royal  Arms,  the 
sleek,  well-groomed  horses  with  their  polished  harness, 
the  spruce  coachman,  and  the  scarlet-coated  guard, 
who,  when  the  coach  had  received  its  mails,  blew  a 
cheering  blast  on  his  horn  as  a  prelude  to  the  journey. 

The  perfedion  of  coaches  brought  into  existence  two 
things  which  had  not  entered  into  Palmer's  calculations. 
One  was  that  with  good  roads  and  good  horses  the 
sporting  spirit  was  not  to  be  controlled  and,  when  rival 
coaches  were  put  on  the  road,  race  they  would  if  they 
broke  every  bone  in  their  passengers'  bodies,  to  say  noth- 
ing of  the  stringent  rules  ena6led  against  the  pradlice 
by  those  in  authority;  the  second,  that  gentlemen  sud- 
denly discovered  that  there  was  most  exquisite  pleasure 
to  be  obtained  from  driving  four  horses  and,  when 
coaches  were  horsed  at  the  proportion  of  one  a  mile, 
nowhere  could  this  pleasure  be  enjoyed  so  thoroughly  as 
on  the  public  coaches. 

Proprietors  fumed,  passengers  protested  shrilly  and 
indignantly,   but   to  little  purpose,  for  the  would-be 


MAIL-COACHES  41 

drivers,  by  dint  of  liberal  tips  to  the  legitimate  coachmen, 
contrived  to  handle  the  ribbons  of  the  most  famous 
coaches,  to  their  own  intense  satisfa61:ion. 

To  one  of  the  amateur  drivers  the  professional  coach- 
men were  deeply  indebted,  for  to  John  Warde  "the 
father  of  fox-hunting,"  they  owed  the  introduction  of 
springs  beneath  the  driver's  seat.  Warde,  who  learnt  to 
tool  a  coach  under  the  able  tuition  of  Jack  Bailey  of  The 
Prince  of  Wales,  found  the  coach-box — then  utterly 
innocent  of  springs  and  resting  on  the  front  axle — a 
situation  of  the  acutest  discomfort  which  responded  to 
every  jolt  in  the  road. 

He  saw  at  once  that  this  could  easily  be  remedied  by 
placing  the  box  on  springs,  and  endeavoured  to  persuade 
the  proprietors  of  the  coaches  to  make  the  alteration. 
They,  however,  looked  askance  and  unanimously  con- 
demned it.  Clinging  fast  to  the  old  maxim  of  no 
change,  they  protested  that  as  hundreds  of  coachmen 
had  driven  all  their  lives  on  boxes  without  springs  it 
was  patent  that  springs  were  not  necessary.  Another 
argument  advanced  was  that  if  the  box  did  not  jolt  the 
coachman  violently  and  frequently  he  would  go  to  sleep, 
and  then,  they  asked  triumphantly,  what  would  become 
of  the  coach. 

At  length  Mr.  Warde  persuaded  the  proprietors  of  the 
Manchester  Telegraph  to  give  his  invention  a  trial  and, 
from  the  fadl  that  this  coach  was  the  first  to  use  them, 
the  springs  were  called  "Telegraph"  springs.  When  it 
was  seen  that  the  Telegraph  coachman  did  not  go  to  sleep 
at  his  post,  and  could  in  consequence  of  the  greater 


42  THE   COACHING   ERA 

comfort  drive  with  more  ease,  the  springs  quickly  came 
into  general  use,  and  the  box-seat  became  in  consequence 
a  coveted  position,  whereas  aforetimes  travellers  would 
have  been  only  too  thankful  to  pay  extra  to  avoid  it. 

The  mail-coaches  appeared  in  great  glory  on  the 
anniversary  of  the  Sovereign's  birthday,  when  they 
paraded  many  of  the  principal  streets  of  London,  and 
provided  an  imposing  spedlacle.  No  expense  was  spared 
to  make  the  occasion  a  memorable  one,  most  of  the 
coaches  being  new,  whilst  those  not  used  for  the  first 
time  came  fresh  from  the  workshop,  where  they  had 
undergone  a  thorough  overhauling,  and  were  as  re- 
splendent as  fresh  paint  and  varnish  could  make  them. 
Picked  teams  were  used,  and  many  country  gentlemen 
would  send  their  horses  to  draw  favourite  coaches  for 
the  ceremony.  All  the  horses  were  groomed  till  their 
coats  shone  like  satin,  and  they  stepped  out  seeming 
proudly  conscious  of  the  important  occasion,  and  of 
their  new  silver  plated  harness,  and  gay  rosettes. 

The  Post  Ofhce  provided  the  guards  with  new  scarlet 
coats  and  gold-laced  beaver  hats,  while  the  contractors, 
not  to  be  outdone,  furnished  the  coachmen  with 
equally  resplendent  livery,  and  both  coachmen  and 
guards  provided  themselves  with  enormous  nosegays. 

No  passengers  were  allowed  outside  the  coaches,  and 
the  interiors  were  filled  with  the  friends  of  the  coachmen 
and  guards.  When  the  coaches  left  Millbank,  the  church 
bells  rang,  guards  blew  their  horns,  and  the  procession, 
headed  by  Bristol  and  oldest  established  Mail,  started  off. 
The  route  taken  varied,  but  a  visit  was  always  paid  to 


MAIL-COACHES  43 

St.  James's  Palace,  where  the  coachmen  and  guards  stood 
up  and  loyally  saluted  their  Sovereign. 

The  last  occasion  on  which  the  Mails  thus  formally 
paraded  was  on  May  17th,  1838,  for  even  then  the  rail- 
ways menaced  their  proud  supremacy,  and  when  the 
next  anniversary  came  round  the  very  existence  of  the 
coaches  was  threatened,  and  Londoners  lost  for  ever  a 
majestic  spedlacle  which  had  been  in  existence  for  36 
years. 


CHAPTER  IV  COACHMEN 

A  COACHMAN  on  his  box  was  an  autocrat 
whose  wish  could  not  be  disputed,  and  whose 
sHghtest  word  on  equine  matters  was  law.  His 
sway  on  the  road  was  absolute,  and  he  and  his 
coach  were  familiar  objefts,  eagerly  looked  for  day  by 
day,  and  the  admired  of  all  beholders.  His  acquaintances 
were  many,  for  though  he  might  never  exchange  a  word 
with  them  from  one  year's  end  to  another  he  had  friends 
in  every  village  through  which  he  passed.  Pretty  girls 
ran  to  the  windows  to  watch  him  go  by,  children  waved 
their  caps  and  cried  "Hurrah,"  shopkeepers  hurried  to 
their  doorways,  whilst  old  men,  whose  life  lay  behind 
them,  watched  expe6fantly  for  the  coming  of  the 
coach,  and  felt  their  sluggish  blood  leap  at  the  exhilar- 
ating sound  of  the  guard's  horn,  and  the  merry  rattle  of 
the  bars  as  the  coach  dashed  gaily  by. 

Villages  where  the  coaches  changed  horses  were 
greatly  to  be  envied,  for  the  coachman  would  dismount 
and  condescend  to  take  a  glass  of  his  favourite  beverage 
from  the  barmaid,  whilst  he  kept  a  professional  eye  on 
the  fresh  team,  and  delivered  words  of  weighty  wisdom 
on  the  subjeft  of  bits  and  coupling  reins  to  the  atten- 
dant ostlers  who  hung  on  his  words  and  envied  him 
enormously. 

Farmers'  wives  and  daughters  viewed  him  with  great 
respeft,  as  one  to  whom  distance  was  naught,  and  whose 
conne6fion  with  the  city  of  London  was  constant  and 
intimate.  Shopping  in   remote  country  distridls  being 

44 


COACHMEN  45 

primitive,  it  was  owing  to  the  kindly  service  of  a  passing 
coachman  that  many  of  the  country  maids  were  enabled 
to  dazzle  their  friends,  by  appearing  on  festive  occasions 
in  the  latest  bonnets  and  sprigged  muslins,  purchased 
expressly  for  them  in  far-off  London  town. 

The  old  coachmen  were  usually  willing  to  undertake 
any  small  commissions,  such  as  the  carrying  of  love 
letters,  the  matching  of  silks,  or  even  to  act  as  go- 
between  in  the  weightier  matters  of  farm  produce. 

As  a  reward  for  their  services,  the  farmers'  wives  fed 
them  with  dainties  of  their  own  making,  for  the  coachmen 
had  great  capacities  for  food,  and  drink.  They  were, 
however,  somewhat  fastidious  as  to  the  offerings  they 
accepted  from  their  admirers,  and  not  above  returning  a 
gift  that  did  not  meet  with  their  approval,  or  come  up 
to  their  expeftations.  Jack  Adams,  who  drove  the  Royal 
Defiance,  a  coach  much  patronized  by  Oxford  under- 
graduates, looked  very  contemptuous  when  a  farm  lad 
came  up  one  day  to  him  at  Dorchester,  and  presented  a 
bundle  of  fresh  cut  turnip  tops  as  a  gift  from  a  neigh- 
bouring farmer. 

"Hump!"  said  Jack,  eyeing  them  unfavourably.  "Is 
that  all  your  master  sent?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  replied  the  boy.  , 

Adams  was  of  the  opinion  that  a  bunch  of  greens  was 
in  no  way  worthy  of  his  acceptance,  so  he  bade  the  boy 
take  them  back  with  the  message:  "Greens  alone  are  of 
no  use  to  Mr.  Adams  unless  he  has  something  to  eat  with 
them,  such  as  a  piece  of  home-cured  bacon." 

The  farmer  took  the  hint,  and  next  day  when  the 


46  THE   COACHING   ERA 

coach  changed  horses  at  Dorchester,  the  country  boy 
in  his  smock-frock  was  waiting  with  two  bundles  of  greens, 
a  splendid  fowl,  and  a  piece  of  home-cured  bacon. 

"Ah,  that's  more  like  it!"  said  Jack,  giving  the  lad  a 
shilling.  "Tell  your  master  that  Mr.  Adams  is  very 
much  obliged  to  him." 

The  coachmen  of  those  days  were  good  trencher  men. 
This,  combined  with  the  fact  that  they  took  pra6lically 
no  exercise,  contributed  to  their  enormous  bulk,  which 
indeed  passed  into  a  tradition,  and  Tom  Hood  aptly 
hit  off  the  popular  conception  of  them  in  the  ballad 
beginning: 

"John  Day  he  was  the  biggest  man 
Of  all  the  coachmen  kind, 
With  back  too  broad  to  be  conceived 
By  any  narrow  mind." 

The  love  of  good  feeding  once  occasioned  rather  an 
unpleasant  experience  to  the  coachman  and  guard  on  a 
night  coach  called  the  Birmingham  Old  Fly;  a  heavy 
old-fashioned  vehicle  carrying  six  inside  and  seven  out. 
The  road  it  travelled  was  a  lonely  one  and  badly  provided 
with  inns,  so  that  between  Shipston  and  Woodstock  there 
was  no  place  where  a  good  meal  could  be  obtained. 
Such  a  long  fast  could  not  be  thought  of,  so  the  coach- 
man arranged  with  a  man  who  horsed  one  of  the  stages 
to  provide  a  hot  supper  for  him  and  the  guard  every 
night.  The  plan  answered  capitally,  until  one  day,  com- 
ing down  Long  Compton  hill,  the  near-side  leader,  a 
five-year-old  mare,  slipped  and  fell,  injuring  herself  so 
badly  that  she  had  to  be  destroyed. 


COACHMEN  47 

The  next  night  the  coach  halted  at  the  accustomed 
stopping-place,  and  the  coachman  and  guard  walked  into 
the  stable,  where  as  usual  a  cloth  was  laid  on  a  corn-bin 
which  did  duty  as  a  table.  The  horse-keeper's  wife 
brought  in  a  smoking  hot  dish  to  which  they  did  ample 
justice  and  finished  to  the  last  morsel.  As  the  coachman 
was  mounting  the  box,  the  horse-keeper  came  up  to  him 
and  said: 

"Well,  gentlemen,  how  did  you  enjoy  your  supper?" 

"Very  much  indeed,"  replied  the  coachman  warmly, 
"it  was  delicious." 

"Ah,"  said  the  horse-keeper  complacently,  "I  always 
told  the  missus  the  young  mare  would  eat  well." 

Words  failed  the  coachman  and  guard;  they  turned 
pale,  their  hands  shook,  and  their  eyes  nearly  started  out 
of  their  heads  as  the  awful  truth  came  home  to  them  that 
they  had  supped  to  repletion  on  horsesteak,  and  what 
was  worse  they  had  enjoyed  it! 

The  old  coachmen  were  necessarily  men  of  strong 
constitutions,  for  the  work  they  were  called  upon  to 
perform  was  arduous,  and  called  for  great  physical 
endurance.  The  box-seat  was  a  place  of  exquisite  dis- 
comfort, susceptible  to  every  jolt  and  jar;  the  horses  were 
ill-bred,  over  worked,  and  badly  put  together,  so  that 
it  was  no  light  undertaking  to  drive  them,  and  coach- 
men and  teams  were  rarely  changed,  but  went  from  one 
end  of  the  journey  to  another.  That  the  coachmen 
brought  their  coaches  through  in  safety  was  in  no 
small  measure  due  to  the  exercise  of  fanning,  springing 
and  towelling;  terms  which  being  interpreted  for  the 


48  THE   COACHING   ERA 

benefit  of  the  uninitiated  mean,  whipping,  galloping, 
and  flogging.  For  the  better  performance  of  the  last 
named,  the  coachmen  kept  in  reserve  a  special  weapon 
known  as  the  "apprentice,"  or  "Tickle  Toby,"  which, 
judiciously  applied,  was  calculated  to  inspire  the  most 
jaded  cattle  to  fresh  endeavours. 

With  the  introduftion  of  mail-coaches,  and  the 
consequent  renovation  of  all  things  appertaining  to 
coaching,  the  old  race  of  coachmen  gradually  died  out, 
and  their  places  were  taken  by  a  totally  different  class  of 
men. 

This  change  was  in  a  great  way  due  to  the  growing 
popularity  of  the  outside  of  the  coach  and  the  realization 
that  the  box-seat  was  a  place  of  honour  and  distin6fion. 
The  old  coachmen  had  for  their  companions  soldiers, 
sailors,  and  poor  people  who  wished  to  travel  cheaply, 
but  when  coaches  were  well  turned  out,  well  horsed, 
and  driven  at  the  rate  of  ten  miles  an  hour,  men  of 
birth  and  education  rebelled  against  the  cramped 
quarters  of  the  inside  of  the  coach,  and  began  to  vie 
with  each  other  in  their  anxiety  to  secure  the  box-seat. 
There  they  could  obtain  the  full  benefit  of  the  coach- 
man's spicy  conversation,  and  if  they  showed  themselves 
appreciative,  and  were  prepared  to  tip  liberally,  they 
might  attain  the  coveted  distin6tion  of  handling  the 
ribbons. 

The  coachmen  adapted  themselves  to  their  company 
and,  during  the  latter  and  glorious  half  of  the  coaching 
era,  the  swell  dragsmen  on  the  crack  coaches  were  men 
skilled  in  their  art,  smart  in  appearance,  possessed  of 


COACHMEN  49 

strong  personalities,  and  very  distinct  ideas  of  their  own 
importance. 

George  Borrow,  who  detested  them,  wrote  thus  with 
exceeding  bitterness: 

"The  stage-coachmen  of  England,  at  the  time  of 
which  I  am  speaking,  considered  themselves  mighty  fine 
gentry,  nay,  I  verily  believe  the  most  important  per- 
sonages of  the  realm,  and  their  entertaining  this  high 
opinion  of  themselves  can  scarcely  be  wondered  at; 
they  were  low  fellows,  but  masters  at  driving;  driving 
was  in  fashion,  and  sprigs  of  nobility  used  to  dress  as 
coachmen  and  imitate  the  slang  and  behaviour  of  the 
coachmen,  from  whom  they  would  occasionally  take 
lessons  in  driving  as  they  sat  beside  them  on  the  box, 
which  post  of  honour  any  sprig  of  nobility,  who  hap- 
pened to  take  a  place  on  a  coach,  claimed  as  his  un- 
questionable right;  and  these  sprigs  would  smoke  cigars 
and  drink  sherry  with  the  coachmen  in  bar-rooms,  and 
on  the  road,  and  when  bidding  them  farewell  would 
give  them  a  guinea  or  half  a  guinea,  and  shake  them  by 
the  hand,  so  that  these  fellows,  being  low  fellows,  very 
naturally  thought  no  small  liquor  of  themselves,  but 
would  talk  familiarly  of  their  friends.  Lord  So-and-So, 
the  Honourable  Mister  So-and-So,  and  Sir  Harry  and 
Sir  Charles,  and  be  wonderfully  saucy  to  anyone  who 
was  not  a  lord,  or  something  of  the  kind;  and  this  high 
opinion  of  themselves  received  daily  augmentation  from 
the  servile  homage  paid  them  by  the  generality  of  the 
untitled  male  passengers,  especially  those  on  the  fore- 
part of  the  coach  who  used  to  contend  for  the  honour  of 
sitting  on  the  box  with  the  coachman  when  no  ^rig  was 
nigh  to  put  in  his  claim.  Oh!  what  servile  homage  these 
craven  creatures  did  pay  these  same  coach  fellows,  more 
especially  after  witnessing  this  or  t'other  adl  of  brutality 

4 


50  THE   COACHING   ERA 

praftised  upon  the  weak  and  unoffending — upon  some 
poor,  friendless  woman  travelling  with  but  little  money, 
and  perhaps  a  brace  of  hungry  children  with  her,  or  upon 
some  thin  and  half-starved  man  travelling  on  the  hind 
part  of  the  coach  from  London  to  Liverpool,  with  only 
eighteenpence  in  his  pocket  after  his  fare  was  paid,  to 
defray  his  expenses  on  the  road,  for  as  the  insolence  of 
these  knights  of  the  road  was  vast,  so  was  their  rapacity 
enormous;  they  had  been  so  long  accustomed  to  have 
crowns  and  half-crowns  rained  upon  them  by  their 
admirers  and  flatterers,  that  they  would  look  at  a  shilling, 
for  which  many  an  honest  labourer  was  happy  to  toil  for 
ten  hours  under  a  broiling  sun,  with  the  utmost  con- 
tempt; would  blow  upon  it  derisively,  or  fillip  it  into 
the  air  before  they  pocketed  it;  but  when  nothing  was 
given  them,  as  would  occasionally  happen — for  how 
could  they  receive  from  those  who  had  nothing?  and 
nobody  was  bound  to  give  them  anything,  as  they  had 
certain  wages  from  their  employers — then  what  a  scene 
would  ensue!" 

George  Borrow  was  certainly  unlucky  in  his  acquaint- 
ance with  stage-coachmen.  Leigh  Hunt  held  them  in 
very  different  estimation: 

"The  mail  or  stage-coachman,  upon  the  whole,  is  no 
inhuman  mass  of  great-coats,  gruffness,  civility,  and  old 
boots.  The  latter  is  the  politer,  from  the  smaller  range  of 
acquaintance,  and  his  necessity  for  preserving  them. 

"His  face  is  red,  and  his  voice  rough,  by  the  same 
process  of  drink  and  catarrh.  He  has  a  silver  watch  with  a 
steel  chain,  and  plenty  of  loose  silver  in  his  pocket,  mixed 
with  halfpence.  He  serves  the  houses  he  goes  by  for  a 
clock.  He  takes  a  glass  at  every  alehouse;  for  thirst,  when 
it  is  dry,  and  for  warmth  when  it  is  wet. 


COACHMEN  51 

"He  likes  to  show  the  judicious  use  of  his  whip,  by- 
twigging  a  dog  or  a  goose  on  the  road,  or  children  that 
get  in  the  way.  His  tenderness  to  descending  old  ladies 
is  particular.  He  touches  his  hat  to  Mr.  Smith.  He 
gives  'the  young  woman'  a  ride,  and  lends  her  his  box- 
coat  in  the  rain.  His  liberalityin  imparting  his  knowledge 
to  anyone  who  has  the  good  fortune  to  ride  on  the  box 
with  him  is  a  happy  mixture  of  deference,  conscious 
possession  and  familiarity.  His  information  lies  chiefly  in 
the  occupancy  of  houses  on  the  road,  prize-fighters,  Bow 
Street  runners,  and  accidents. 

"  He  concludes  that  you  know  Dick  Sams,  or  old  Joey, 
and  proceeds  to  relate  some  of  the  stories  that  relish  his 
pot  and  tobacco  in  the  evening.  If  any  of  the  four-in- 
hand  gentry  go  by,  he  shakes  his  head,  and  thinks  they 
might  find  something  better  to  do.  His  contempt  for 
them  is  founded  on  modesty. 

"He  tells  you  that  his  off-hand  horse  is  as  pretty  a 
goer  as  ever  there  was,  but  that  Kitty — 'Yeah,  now  there, 
Kitty,  can't  you  be  still? — Kitty's  a  devil,  sir,  for  all 
you  wouldn't  think  it.'  He  knows  that  all  the  boys  on  the 
road  admire  him,  and  gives  the  horses  an  indifferent 
lash  with  the  whip  as  they  go  by.  If  you  wish  to  know 
what  rain  and  dust  can  do,  you  should  look  at  his  old 
hat.  There  is  an  indescribably  placid  and  paternal  look 
in  the  position  of  his  corduroy  knees  and  old  top- 
boots  on  the  foot-board,  with  their  pointed  toes  and 
never  cleaned  soles.  His  beau-ideal  of  appearance  is  a 
frock-coat,  with  mother-o'-pearl  buttons,  a  striped 
yellow  waistcoat,  and  a  flower  in  his  mouth." 

The  drivers  both  of  the  mails  and  stages  were  as  a  rule 
civil,  good-natured  men,  and  polite  to  all  classes  of 
passengers,  though  naturally  they  had  a  preference  for 
those  whose  interests  were  akin  to  their  own,  and  who 


52  THE   COACHING  ERA 

could  appreciate  the  points  of  their  team,  and  converse 
with  them  in  the  language  of  the  road. 

"I  talk  to  nobody  about  'orses  except  lords,"  declares 
the  coachman  in  LavengrOy  and  Jem  Howell  considered 
that  a  member  of  the  nobility  was  a  distin£l  ornament  to 
a  coach-box  saying:  "I  like  to  have  a  lord  about  my  coach, 
it  looks  so  respectable. "  Besides  a  knowledge  of  horse- 
flesh "Lords"  had  two  other  endearing  qualities — they 
made  good  listeners,  and  they  tipped  well. 

Lord  Abingdon  who  was  a  noted  whip  often  drove 
the  Blenheim  coach  with  its  celebrated  team  of  greys, 
but  one  day  he  had  the  box-seat  he  did  not  take  the 
ribbons,  though  the  coachman  offered  them  to  him 
with  the  conventional  remark:  "Now,  my  lord,  have  you 
your  driving-gloves  on?"  When  the  coach  reached  the 
Gloucester  Coffee  House,  Lord  Abingdon  gave  the 
coachman  his  fee,  who  looked  at  it  disdainfully: 

"My  lord,  half  a  sovereign." 

"Yes,  you  see  I  did  not  drive." 

"But  you  might  have,  my  lord,"  was  the  reproachful 
reply. 

"Oh  well,  give  it  me  back,"  said  Lord  Abingdon, 
producing  a  sovereign. 

"Thank  you,  my  lord,  that's  right.  We  don't  do 
things  by  halves  on  the  Blenheim." 

The  old  coachmen  and  the  swell  dragsmen  differed 
greatly  in  externals,  but  had  many  traits  in  common, 
among  the  most  prominent  of  which  was  a  strong  pre- 
disposition for  "shouldering,"  which,  in  the  expressive 
slang   of   the   road,   meant   carrying   passengers   whose 


COACHMEN  53 

names  were  not  down  on  the  way-bill,  and  whose  fares 
went  into  the  pockets  of  the  coachmen  and  guards 
instead  of  the  proprietor's.  This  well-established  custom 
flourished  exceedingly  despite  strenuous  efforts  on  the 
part  of  those  in  authority  to  put  it  down.  The  most 
ingenious  device  for  the  abolition  of  shouldering  was 
making  the  fine  of  40s.  payable  to  the  turnpike  men,  who 
eagerly  embraced  the  opportunity  of  adding  to  their 
incomes.  The  coachmen  got  out  of  the  difficulty  by 
putting  extra  passengers  down  on  one  side  of  the  gate 
and  taking  them  up  on  the  other;  a  pradfice  which 
entailed  a  heavy  penalty  if  detedled. 

Even  more  abhorrent  than  the  "pikes"  in  the  eyes  of 
the  coachmen,  were  the  professional  informers  who 
patrolled  the  roads  with  the  avowed  intention  of  catch- 
ing coachmen  infringing  some  of  the  innumerable  laws 
which  Parliament  had  enafted  for  the  regulation  of  their 
conduft,  but  which  they  ignored  with  the  greatest 
possible  freedom.  When  an  informer  managed  to 
convi6l  a  coachman  of  shouldering,  allowing  amateurs  to 
drive,  being  the  worse  for  drink,  carrying  excess  luggage, 
or  committing  any  other  sin  for  which  a  fine  was  ex- 
pressly specified,  he  pocketed  the  whole  or  part  of  the 
penalty  as  the  Court  might  decide. 

As  was  only  to  be  expefted,  the  coachmen  hated  the 
informers  with  the  bitterest  hatred,  and  the  whole  of 
their  extensive  vocabulary  was  inadequate  to  express 
their  opinion  of  them.  Occasionally  informers  were  seen 
and  recognized  on  the  road;  then  ostlers  became  blind 
and  deaf,  whilst  the  coachman  with  the  most  exquisite 


54  THE   COACHING  ERA 

joy  would  trash  their  enemy,  duck  him  in  the  nearest 
pond,  or  otherwise  pay  out  old  scores  in  whatever  manner 
their  ingenuity  suggested. 

The  most  notorious  informer  was  a  man  named  Byers^ 
who  harassed  the  coachmen  on  the  Brighton  road  to 
their  great  infuriation.  In  1825  he  transferred  his 
attention  to  the  Bath  Road,  where  in  the  space  of  a 
fortnight  he  laid  thirty-four  informations  involving 
penalties  amounting  to  ^^500,  of  which  a  large  proportion 
went  into  his  own  pocket. 

Hearing  that  an  eleftion  was  in  progress  at  Oxford, 
he  rightly  judged  it  to  be  a  propitious  time  for  catching 
university  coachmen  tripping.  Accompanied  by  a  friend 
he  therefore  paid  a  surprise  visit  to  the  Oxford  road, 
where  he  instantly  began  to  lay  information  against 
coachmen  for  carrying  excess  passengers  during  the 
eleftion. 

The  day  came  for  the  hearing  of  the  cases,  but  the  two 
chief  witnesses  did  not  appear.  The  reason  for  their 
absence  was  soon  apparent,  for  the  city  was  in  an  uproar, 
caused  by  the  fads  that  as  the  two  informers  were  on 
the  way  to  the  hall  they  suddenly  came  face  to  face 
with  a  seleft  deputation  of  Oxford  coachmen.  The 
informers  gave  one  look  and  fled.  The  coachmen 
halloed  and  pursued,  the  crowd  joined  in,  and  Oxford 
enjoyed  the  thrilling  and  novel  experience  of  a  man  hunt. 
The  informers  provided  a  good  run,  but  were  eventu- 

1  In  "A  Lay  of  St.  Nicholas"  (Ingoldshy  Legends)  Byers  is 
represented  as  carrying  on  his  trade  of  informer:  "The  accusing 
Byers  flew  up  to  Heaven's  Chancery." 


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COACHMEN  55 

ally  pulled  down  by  the  coaclimen  who  ducked  them 
joyously  in  the  river. 

Oxford  in  those  days  could  have  produced  a  perfe6l 
regiment  of  coachmen  had  occasion  required,  for  the 
University  town  was  a  most  important  junction  in  the 
coaching  era,  as  many  as  seventy-three  coaches  passing 
through  the  city  daily. 

It  naturally  followed  that  a  great  many  coachmen 
resided  in  the  town,  and  St.  John's  Street  alone  could 
boast  the  honour  of  no  less  than  fourteen  of  the  coaching 
fraternity.  Two  of  these  were  old  John  Bayzand,  who 
drove  the  Southampton  Oxonian  for  thirty-six  years, 
and  Will  Stacey,  of  the  Alert,  and  one  evening  as  they 
were  on  their  way  home  they  chanced  to  meet  three 
retired  tailors  who  resided  in  Beaumont  Street,  and 
rejoiced  in  the  names  of  Mr.  Speakman,  Mr.  Dry,  and 
Mr.  Banting.  These  tailors  thought  not  inconsiderably 
of  themselves,  and  had  planned  a  joke  at  the  coachmen's 
expense. 

"Well,  gentlemen,  done  your  daily  toil?"  inquired 
Mr.  Banting. 

"Yes,"  replied  Bayzand,  and  would  have  passed  but 
the  tailors  detained  him. 

"We  have  had  a  consultation,  and  with  your  per- 
mission,  we   are  going  to    change  the  name  of  your 


street." 


"Oh,  certainly,"  replied  Bayzand,  "may  I  inquire 
what  name  you  intend  to  bestow  on  it?" 

"Oh,  Whipcord  Terrace,"  returned  the  tailor,  whilst 
the  others  acclaimed  his  wit. 


S6  THE   COACHING  ERA 

"Well,  that  is  strange,"  retorted  Bayzand  instantly, 
"for  we  were  about  to  alter  the  name  of  your  street, 
provided  we  could  obtain  your  sanftion." 

"Oh,  with  pleasure;  'tis  granted,"  said  Mr.  Speakman 
patronizingly. 

"We  thought  Threadneedle  Street  would  be  appropri- 
ate,"^ said  the  coachman  suavely,  and  passed  on  leaving 
the  discomfited  tailors. 

It  was  not  easy  to  get  the  better  of  old  John  Bayzand, 
for  he  was  nimble  of  wit  and  apt  at  repartee;  moreover, 
he  was  possessed  of  such  a  fund  of  good  stories,  and  had 
so  many  jokes  to  crack,  that  he  boasted  that  his  pas- 
sengers were  never  dull. 

The  Southampton  coach  passed  a  quaint  little  church, 
and  travellers  generally  inquired  its  name. 

"Newtown,  sir,"  Bayzand  would  reply,  "and  there's 
a  very  curious  thing  about  that  church,  for  they 
ring  all  the  bells  for  a  funeral,  and  only  one  for  a 
wedding." 

"Dear  me,"  was  the  invariable  reply,  "how  very  extra- 
ordinary, what  can  have  given  rise  to  such  a  custom?"  | 

When  they  had  speculated  sufficiently  the  coachman 
would  remark: 

"Well,  you  see,  sir,  there  is  only  one  bell." 

Bayzand  was  very  fond  of  his  horses,  and  it  said  much 
for  his  popularity  that  he  was  able  to  prevail  on  his  pas- 
sengers to  get  out  and  walk  whenever  they  approached 
a  hill;  and  they  were  many  on  the  Southampton  road. 
When  they  objected  Bayzand  cajoled  them  somehow, 
^  MSS.  William  Bayzand,  Bodleian  Library. 


COACHMEN  57 

and  he  once  got  the  better  of  a  clergyman  whose  actions 
were  strangely  at  variance  with  his  admonitions. 

Regular  attendance  at  church  was  scarcely  a  typical 
feature  of  the  old  coachmen,  but  Bayzand  always  made 
a  point  of  visiting  St.  Mary's  to  hear  the  University 
sermon.  One  Monday  morning  when  he  started  from 
the  Mitre  with  his  four  long-tailed  blacks,  he  had  the 
preacher  of  the  previous  day  on  the  box-seat  beside  him, 
and  three  fellows  of  New  College  on  the  seat  behind. 

At  the  bottom  of  Hinksey  Hill  Bayzand  politely 
requested  them  all  to  get  out  and  walk,  which  they  did, 
though  the  clergyman  evidently  thought  it  would  entail 
loss  of  time,  for  he  asked  rather  pointedly  what  time  the 
coach  was  due  at  Whitchurch. 

"One  o'clock,  sir,"  replied  Bayzand. 

During  the  next  stage  there  occurred  another  steep 
hill  and  Bayzand  asked  his  passengers  to  get  down  and 
ease  the  horses. 

"Coachman,"  cried  the  clergyman  in  evident  annoy- 
ance, ''''what  time  did  you  say  we  were  due  at  Whit- 
church?" 

"At  one  o'clock,  sir,"  reiterated  Bayzand. 

At  the  third  hill,  he  once  more  appealed  to  them  to 
walk,  and  the  clergyman's  anger  could  no  longer  be  con- 
tained. 

"Coachman,"  he  said  irritably,  "you  will  never  get 
to  Whitchurch  at  this  rate.  Why  don't  you  drive  the 
horses  faster?  Pitch  into  them  right  and  left  and  make 
them  gallop." 

"Oh,  sir,"  cried  Bayzand  in  pretended  horror,   "I 


58  THE   COACHING   ERA 

wish  you  had  been  at  St.  Mary's  church  yesterday,  and 
heard  the  strange  parson  preach  such  a  beautiful  sermon 
from  the  text:  'A  merciful  man  is  merciful  to  his  beast!'" 

The  fellows  from  New  College  became  purple  from 
suppressed  laughter,  Bayzand  looked  gently  grieved; 
the  box-seat  passengers  said  nothing,  but  at  the  next 
change  he  hurriedly  dismounted  and  went  inside  the 
coach. 

"Bayzand,  it  was  too  bad  of  you,"  cried  the  fellows 
from  New  College,  trying  to  moderate  their  mirth. 

"Indeed,  gentlemen.  May  I  ask  why?"  said  Bayzand 
in  pretended  innocence. 

"You  old  rascal,"  said  one  of  them.  "You  know  very 
well  that  was  the  man  who  preached  the  sermon." 

"Well,  to  be  sure!"  said  John  Bayzand. 

The  coach  reached  Whitchurch  on  the  stroke  of  one; 
a  circumstance  which  Bayzand  did  not  fail  to  point  out 
to  the  clergyman,  who  said  never  a  word,  but  seized  his 
bag  and  departed  hurriedly. 

Bayzand  was  the  last  coachman  to  drive  over  Old 
Folly  Bridge,  and  the  first  to  cross  the  new  one  in  1826. 
He  was  known  as  the  "Sweeper,"  because  when  going 
down  Oriel  Lane  he  always  made  a  long  turn  at  the 
corner,  whilst  Bill  Taylor,  who  drove  the  Oxonian  on 
alternate  days,  cut  the  corner  very  fine,  and  in  conse- 
quence was  called  the  "Scraper." 

One  bitterly  cold  wet  night,  John  Bayzand  was  driving 
his  coach  over  Winchester  Downs,  when  he  passed  a  poor 
man  scantily  clad  tramping  along  with  his  bundle  over 
his  shoulder. 


COACHMEN  59 

"Coachman,"  said  a  gentleman  on  the  roof,  "give 
that  poor  fellow  a  lift." 

Bayzand  willingly  complied,  and  scarcely  was  the  man 
seated  when  one  of  the  passenger  lent  him  a  coat,  another 
a  shawl,  and  he  was  soon  warm  and  comfortable. 

"And  now  tell  us  where  you  have  come  from,"  said 
one. 

"India,"  replied  the  man.  "Yesterday  I  got  my 
discharge  from  Portsmouth  after  being  from  England 
more  than  twenty-five  years.  I  went  as  substitute  for  a 
Mr.  John  Bayzand  of  Aston-under-Hill." 

"Why,  I  am  John  Bayzand,"  exclaimed  the  coachman. 

All  the  travellers  were  much  interested  at  the  un- 
expefted  meeting  between  the  two  men,  and  a  military 
looking  gentleman,  who  occupied  the  box-seat,  took  the 
soldier's  address  and  asked  him  many  questions. 

The  passengers  clubbed  together  to  give  the  poor  man 
a  good  dinner  at  Newbury,  paid  his  fare  to  Oxford  and 
gave  him  a  sovereign.  John  Bayzand  took  his  substitute 
home  with  him,  provided  him  with  a  new  suit  of  clothes 
and  some  money.  Shortly  afterwards  the  soldier  re- 
ceived a  letter  from  the  War  Office,  and  found  he  was 
entitled  to  a  good  pension,  which  he  owed  to  the  repre- 
sentation and  kindness  of  the  gentleman  who  occupied 
the  box-seat  on  the  Oxonian. 

Many  of  the  coachmen  had  nicknames  bestowed 
upon  them  for  some  peculiarity  of  habit  or  appearance; 
John  Barnshaw,  who  drove  the  Rising  Sun,  was  "Civil 
John"  for  his  urbanity;  James  Witherington  was 
"Bloody  Jimmy"  for  his  severity  with  his  horses;  whilst 


6o  THE   COACHING  ERA 

Tillimant  Bobart,  driver  of  the  Oxford  Balloon,  was 
known  far  and  wide  as  the  "Classical  Coachman,"  from 
the  fa61:  that  he  had  been  to  college,  and  was  a  Bachelor 
of  Arts.  Such  was  the  diversity  of  his  accomplishments, 
that  he  "capped  verses  and  the  front  of  his  hat  with 
equal  dexterity,  and  read  Horace  over  his  brandy  and 
water  of  an  evening." 

Most  famous  of  all  was  Will  Bov/ers  who  drove  the 
Alert,  and  from  the  darkness  of  his  complexion  was 
known  far  and  wide  as  "Black  Will";  a  fa6l  of  which  he 
was  fully  aware  and  resented  not  a  little.  At  a  trial 
in  which  he  was  in  some  way  concerned,  he  was  cross- 
examined  to  the  following  effeft. 

Counsel:  I  believe  your  name  is  Bowers? 

Bowers:  It  is. 

Coutisel:  You  drive  the  London  coach? 

Bowers:   I  do. 

Counsel:  Are  you  considered  a  good  coachman? 

Bowers:  Yes  (and  with  true  professional  pride) ;  I've 
never  had  an  upset. 

Counsel:  (not  in  the  least  impressed,  and  anxious  to 
insinuate  against  the  witness's  character) 
Now,  sir,  can  you  deny  that  you  are  often 
spoken  of  as  "Black  Will"? 

Bowers:  Yes,  by  blackguards;  gentlemen  call  me  Mr. 
Bowers  (whereat  the  counsel  collapsed  and 
the  Court  was  convulsed  with  laughter). 

One  day  just  before  term  commenced  "Black  Will" 
drew  up  at  the  White  Horse  cellars,  Piccadilly,  with  his 
coach  filled  inside  and  out  with  undergraduates.  An 
exceptionally  pretty  girl  came  up  to  ask  if  there  was  room 


COACHMEN  6i 

for  one  inside,  and  the  undergraduates  craned  forward 
to  look  at  her,  becoming  ecstatic  over  her  beauty. 

"What  a  peach!"  exclaimed  one. 

"Quite  lovely!"  cried  another. 

"Heavenly!"  raved  a  third. 

"Sorry,  miss,  but  we're  full  inside  and  out,"  replied 
Bowers  in  response  to  her  inquiry. 

"Couldn't  you  make  room  for  one  more?"  she  urged. 

"Impossible,"  said  Will ;  then  seeing  her  disappoint- 
ment added,  "That  is,  unless  the  gentlemen  give  their 
permission." 

The  undergraduates  gave  it  instantly  and  unanimously. 

"There's  lots  of  room  inside,"  they  cried,  "We  are 
not  very  big  and  can  easily  make  room  for  one  more." 

"If  the  gentlemen  consent  I  have  no  objedlion,"  said 
Bowers. 

"We  consent,"  cried  the  eager  Oxonians. 

The  girl  paid  the  fare,  the  guard  opened  the  door, 
saying: 

"Now,  miss,  if  you  please.  We  are  losing  time." 

"Come  along,  grandma,"  cried  the  pretty  girl  to  a 
stout  old  lady  who  had  accompanied  her  but  taken  no 
part  in  the  proceedings.  "Get  in,  and  be  sure  you 
thank  the  young  gentlemen." 

Petrifaction  seized  the  undergraduates  as  the  guard 
opened  the  door,  the  coachman  mounted  the  box,  and 
the  full  horror  of  their  situation  dawned  on  them. 

"Stop,  stop,"  they  cried.  "There's  some  mistake;  we 
shall  be  crushed  to  death." 

The  young  lady  tittered,  the  guard  was  convulsed, 


62  THE   COACHING   ERA 

the  outside  Oxonians  were  doubled  up  in  the  very  ecstasy 
of  mirth,  and  even  "Black  Will"  grinned  as  the  coach 
drove  off  to  the  accompaniment  of  the  bitter  lamenta- 
tions of  the  deluded  insides. 

It  was  not  always  the  passengers  whose  undoing  caused 
merriment  and  provided  so  many  good  stories  down  the 
road,  for  coachmen  themselves  were  hoaxed  sometimes, 
and  Jem  Howell,  who  drove  the  Birmingham  day  coach, 
and  liked  a  joke  himself,  was  once  effedlively  taken  in. 
When  driving  along  the  bleak  exposed  road  near  Enstone, 
a  farm  lad  called  out  to  him  to  stop,  and  with  true 
Oxfordshire  deliberation  and  drawl  asked  if  there  was 
room  for  three  inside  passengers. 

"Yes,  my  boy,  plenty  of  room,"  replied  Howell. 

"For  three  inside?"  reiterated  the  boy. 

"Yes,  yes,  make  haste." 

"Did  you  understand,  sir?"  persisted  the  lad. 

"Oh,  yes;  three  inside  passengers." 

"Three,"  emphasized  the  boy. 

"Yes,  yes;  do  be  quick,  my  boy,"  answered  Howell 
impatiently. 

"You  be  sure  you  have  room?" 

"Why,  yes,  how  many  more  times  must  I  tell  you?" 

"Wal,"  drawled  the  youth,  as  he  turned  on  his  heel, 
"if  I  does  happen  to  hear  of  anyone  as  wants  to  go,  I'll 
let  you  know." 

What  would  have  happened  if  he  attempted  to  play 
such  a  trick  on  another  coachman,  by  name  John  Spooner, 
passes  all  powers  of  imagination,  for  he  was  notorious  for 
his  hasty  temper,  and  Mr.  Costar,  who  horsed  the  coach, 


COACHMEN  63 

received  so  many  complaints  of  his  servant's  incivilities 
to  the  passengers,  that  he  at  length  suspended  him  from 
his  duties  by  way  of  a  salutary  lesson. 

A  coachman  deprived  of  his  box  was  a  being  intensely 
wretched,  and  Spooner  haunted  the  Angel  Hotel  at 
Oxford,  and  increased  his  wretchedness  by  watching  the 
coaches  start.  At  length  Mr.  Costar  took  pity  on  him, 
and  told  him  he  might  resume  his  duties,  provided  that 
he  could  keep  a  still  tongue  in  his  head. 

Spooner  determined  to  carry  out  this  instrudlion 
literally,  for  that  night,  though  the  box-passenger  asked 
many  and  repeated  questions,  not  one  word  could  he 
get  in  reply.  At  length  being  considerably  puzzled  he 
turned  to  the  guard  and  inquired  if  the  coachman  was 
deaf. 

"  A  little,  sir,"  replied  the  guard  who  was  in  ecstasy, 
wondering  how  long  it  would  be  before  Spooner's 
silence  and  temper  alike  gave  out,  when  he  looked  for- 
ward to  the  pleasure  of  seeing  the  gentleman  curl  up 
under  the  lash  of  the  coachman's  tongue. 

The  passenger  asked  a  few  more  questions  but  with 
no  better  result,  so  at  last  he  desisted,  and  the  night 
passed  in  silence.  With  the  dawn  the  gentleman  resumed 
his  questioning,  and,  pointing  to  a  country  residence 
asked  to  whom  it  belonged.  As  he  received  no  answer  he 
repeated  his  question  in  a  louder  tone;  finally,  feeling 
that  the  coachman  was  nothing  like  so  deaf  as  he  pre- 
tended to  be,  he  fairly  shouted  at  him,  and  Spooner's 
anger  could  no  longer  be  restrained. 

"It's  not  mine,"  he  roared  in  a  rage,  "nor  yours  or 


64  THE   COACHING   ERA 

you  wouldn't  ask  such  foolish  questions."  Then  the 
remembrance  of  Mr.  Costar's  advice  returned  to  him 
and  he  added  bitterly:  "Perhaps  now  you  will  try  and 
say  I  am  not  civil!" 

On  a  certain  night  Spooner  had  three  inside  passengers 
in  the  Gloucester  mail,  one  of  them  being  a  well-known 
banker  notorious  for  his  meanness.  At  Henley  the 
coachmen  were  changed  and  Spooner  asked  for  his  fee. 
Two  of  the  travellers  gave  him  a  shilling  apiece,  but  the 
banker  searched  his  pockets  for  a  sixpence.  Spooner, 
to  show  his  scorn  for  such  a  meagrely  dole,  jerked  his 
arm  as  if  to  throw  it  into  the  Thames.  The  mail  had 
just  started  when  the  banker  discovered  that  instead  of 
sixpence  he  had  given  the  coachman  half  a  sovereign. 
He  immediately  stopped  the  coach  and  demanded  the 
return  of  the  money. 

"Well,  you  saw  what  I  did  with  it,"  said  Spooner,  "I 
should  think  it  is  at  the  bottom  of  the  Thames  by  this 


time." 


The  banker  raved  but  to  no  purpose,  and  he  drove  off 
declaring  his  intention  of  writing  to  Spooner's  proprietor. 

He  carried  out  his  threat,  and  when  Mr.  Costar  heard 
the  circumstances  he  was  fully  inclined  to  take  his  ser- 
vant's part,  but  having  an  extensive  knowledge  of  coach- 
men in  general  and  this  one  in  particular  he  inquired, 
with  a  twinkle  in  his  eye,  if  Spooner  had  adually  thrown 
the  coin  into  the  river. 

"No,  sir,"  he  replied,  "it  fell  into  my  little  side  pocket, 
and  I  did  the  miserable  niggardly  banker." 

Spooner  looked  on  the  majority  of  his  passengers  as 


COACHMEN  65 

his  sworn  enemies,  but  he  entertained  something  like 
friendliness  for  a  certain  sporting  parson  who  lived  in 
Oxford,  and  whose  mania  was  coaching.  One  day, 
after  a  sharp  dispute  with  another  traveller  who  also 
desired  it,  he  secured  the  box-seat  on  the  Leamington 
coach,  which  a  few  minutes  later  upset  and  caused  his 
death. 

His  funeral  was  unique,  for  as  a  tribute  to  his  ruling 
passion  his  coi^n  was  placed  in  a  hearse  drawn  by- 
four  horses,  and  John  Spooner  deputed  to  drive  it.  To 
the  horror  and  consternation  of  the  mourners,  Spooner 
had  no  sooner  mounted  the  box  than  he  whipped  up  the 
astonished  black  horses  and  drove  off  as  hard  as  he  could 
and  arrived  at  the  churchyard  long  before  the  rest  of  the 
procession.  He  was  remonstrated  with  for  his  scandalous 
behaviour,  but,  feeling  that  he  had  known  the  dead  man 
better  than  any  of  them,  he  replied  coolly:  "You  couldn't 
drive  fast  enough  for  him  when  he  was  alive,  so  I  thought 
I  would  give  him  a  good  shake  up  when  he  was  dead." 

Sporting  parsons  were  somewhat  rare  and,  as  a  rule, 
churchmen  and  coachmen  were  not  affinities.  One  day 
a  clergyman  went  to  the  Cheltenham  booking-office  and 
took  the  box-seat  on  the  Isis  coach  which  was  driven  by 
Ned  Burford,  who  was  notorious  for  the  fluency  of  his 
language.  The  book-keeper,  as  he  took  the  money, 
coughed  and  looked  doubtful,  and  wishing  to  save  the 
clergyman  pain,  said  deprecatingly: 

"I  do  not  think  you  will  feel  quite  at  home  with  the 
coachman,  sir." 

"Why  not?"  inquired  the  parson. 
5 


ee  THE   COACHING  ERA 

"Oh,  he  occasionally  talks  rather  so-so,"  was  the  reply, 
by  which  the  book-keeper  delicately  implied  that  when 
things  went  wrong  with  Ned  his  remarks  were  such  that 
no  clergyman  could  listen  to  with  propriety. 

"Oh,  never  mind  that,"  said  the  parson,  and  went 
headlong  to  his  doom. 

For  the  first  part  of  the  journey  the  coachman  and 
box-seat  passenger  got  on  admirably.  The  talk  fell  on  the 
recent  balloon  ascents,  of  which  neither  approved,  and 
Ned  gave  his  opinion  thus: 

"There,  sir,  I  call  it  downright  wicked  presumption  in 
the  extreme,  those  balloons  trying  to  solve  more  than 
they  ought." 

"I  am  of  the  same  opinion,"  said  the  clergyman, 
thinking  that  Ned  was  a  much  maligned  charafter,  for 
his  feelings,  though  forcible,  were  delicately  and  well 
expressed.  At  that  moment  one  of  the  horses  stumbled 
and  nearly  fell.  The  change  in  the  coachman  was  in- 
stantaneous, for  he  began  to  curse  and  swear  in  a  frightful 
manner.  The  clergyman  during  the  whole  of  his  blame- 
less existence  had  never  imagined  such  appalling  nouns 
and  adjeftives  as  fell  with  ready  fluency  from  Ned's  lips. 
He  remained  speechless,  rightly  judging  that  any  inter- 
ference would  render  him  the  recipient  of  language  more 
picturesque  than  polite,  but  he  turned  red,  white,  green, 
and  other  colours  indicative  of  strongly  suppressed 
emotions,  and  at  the  first  opportunity  hastened  to  ex- 
change the  lurid  atmosphere  of  the  box-seat  for  the 
chaste  seclusion  of  the  inside. 

Many  passengers  delighted  to  draw  out  the  coachman, 


COACHMEN  e-j 

and  two  of  them  once  proposed  to  Joe  Stephens  that 
they  should  have  a  competition  as  to  who  could  compose 
the  best  piece  of  poetry  before  the  coach  reached  the 
Chequers  Inn  at  Whitway.  The  gentlemen  soon  made 
theirs,  but  Stephen  found  poetry  a  far  tougher  job  than 
driving  a  coach,  and  they  were  within  a  hundred  yards 
of  the  Chequers  Inn  when  he  saw  two  pigs  belonging  to 
Mr.  Perkins,  the  landlord,  which  gave  him  an  idea. 

"Gentlemen,"  he  announced,  "I  am  ready,"  and  at 
once  repeated  this  oration: 

"Mr.  Perkins  had  two  pigs 

As  fine  as  one  another, 
Robin  Hood  was  one's  name, 

Little  John  t'other." 

"Eravo!"  cried  the  hugely  amused  passengers.  "You 
have  fairly  beaten  us  and  shall  have  the  prize." 

Stephens  did  not  come  off  quite  so  well  another  time 
when  he  had  a  gay  young  spark  on  the  box  to  whom 
he  gave  tuition  in  driving,  to  the  no  small  alarm  and 
apprehension  of  a  Quaker  on  the  seat  behind.  Anxious 
to  show  off,  Stephens  pointed  to  a  tree  and  said: 

"Now  if  I  was  to  set  these  horses  at  full  gallop,  do  you 
think  I  could  pull  them  up  before  we  got  to  that  tree?" 

The  box-seat  passenger,  seeing  that  he  was  expefted 
to  reply  in  the  negative,  declared  that  such  a  thing 
would  be  impossible. 

The  coachman  immediately  set  his  team  off  at  full 
speed,  the  coach  rocked,  and  the  Quaker  held  on  for  dear 

life. 


68  THE    COACHING   ERA 

Stephens  pulled  up  at  the  tree,  and  looked  com- 
placently at  his  passenger  who  gave  utterance  to  words 
expressive  of  excessive  and  staggering  admiration.  The 
Quaker  said  nothing  but  thought  the  more. 

He  got  down  at  Newbury,  when  Stephens  asked  for 
his  fee. 

"Nay,  friend,"  said  the  Quaker,  "if  thee  hadst  been  a 
little  stronger  in  thy  head,  and  not  so  strong  in  thy  arms, 
I  should  have  given  thee  a  shilling;  I  shall  now  give  it 
thy  guard." 


CHAPTER  V  GUARDS 

ARMED  guards  for  the  prote6lIon  of  the  mail- 
coaches  were  from  the  first  an  outstanding 
feature  of  Mr.  Palmer's  scheme  for  complete 
postal  reform.  The  Post  Office  officials,  how- 
ever, eyed  them  dubiously  and  entertained  grave  doubts 
as  to  their  probity,  declaring  that  the  ale  houses  by 
the  way  would  prove  potent  fadtors  for  their  un- 
doing. 

When  Mr.  Palmer's  plan  came  into  force,  the  mail- 
guards  gave  the  lie  dired  to  the  Post  Office,  anent  their 
predileftion  for  strong  drink,  but  came  perilously  near 
fulfilling  another  of  the  objedions  raised  against  their 
institution.  The  heads  of  the  department  had  expressed 
their  horror  at  the  idea  of  providing  the  guards  with 
weapons  of  defence,  declaring  that  such  a  course  would 
inevitably  lead  to  wholesale  murder.  That  it  did  not  was 
more  by  accident  than  design,  for  the  first  mail  guards 
were  so  inflated  with  the  importance  of  their  position, 
and  so  exceedingly  joyous  in  the  possession  of  that 
fearsome  weapon  the  blunderbuss,  that  they  testified 
their  delight  in  such  sportive  ways  that  the  public  were 
in  a  state  of  extreme  terror.  Before  the  mail-guards  had 
been  in  existence  for  the  space  of  one  month,  it  was 
found  necessary  to  issue  stringent  regulations  forbidding 
them  to  fire  off  their  blunderbusses  when  passing  through 
towns  or  villages. 

Apparently,  the  blunderbuss  possessed  an  immense 

fascination  for  the  guards  and,  like  a  small  boy  with  a 

69 


70  THE   COACHING  ERA 

popgun,  they  shot  at  anything  and  everything  that  in 
their  eyes  was  a  suitable  target.  The  slugs  with  which 
they  loaded  the  blunderbusses  were  intended  to  lodge  in 
the  bodies  of  highwaymen,  but  the  "gentlemen  of  the 
road  "  looked  askance  at  the  mail-coaches  which  threa- 
tened to  destroy  their  trade  and,  with  great  want  of 
consideration  for  the  feelings  of  the  armed  guards  longing 
to  display  their  valour,  refused  to  present  themselves 
as  targets.  The  guards,  thus  baulked  of  their  legitimate 
prey,  varied  the  monotony  of  coaching  by  shooting  at 
dogs,  sheep,  pigs,  hens,  etc.,  and  by  pointing  their 
deadly  weapons  at  innocent  and  terror-struck  travellers, 
thereby  frightening  them  nearly  out  of  their  lives. 

These  sportive  proceedings  were  eyed  with  disfavour, 
and,  in  Wales,  one  Mr.  Pennant,  who  hated  mail- 
coaches  and  all  that  concerned  them  because  they  were 
exempt  from  tolls,  determined  that  the  next  guard  who 
erred  ever  so  little  from  the  direft  path  defined  for  mail- 
guards  should  be  brought  to  judgment.  He  did  not  have 
long  to  wait,  for  word  was  brought  him  that  a  guard, 
nicknamed  the  "Prince  of  Wales"  from  the  extreme 
elegance  of  his  person,  had  not  only  shot  a  dog  because 
it  had  barked  at  him,  but  also  threatened  to  blow  the 
turnpike-keeper's  brains  out. 

Clear  acts  of  violence  both  of  these,  and  Mr.  Pennant 
at  once  issued  a  warrant  against  him.  The  sequel  was 
unexpected,  for  Mr.  Pennant  who  had  been  praying 
that  a  guard  might  be  delivered  into  his  hands,  for  him 
to  make  an  example  of  for  the  petrification  of  all  mail- 
guards,  was  so  softened  by  the  charms  of  the  "Prince  of 


GUARDS  71 

Wales,"  that,  after  impressing  on  him  that  guards  were 
entrusted  with  firearms  for  the  proteftion  of  the  mails 
and  coaches,  and  not  as  he  seemed  to  suppose  for  the 
express  purpose  of  terrifying  His  Majesty's  subjects,  he 
dismissed  him  with  a  reprimand. 

That  the  guards  did  not  discontinue  their  evil  practices 
is  evident  from  the  f aft  that  subsequent  regulations  made 
them  liable  to  a  fine  of  ^5  if  they  fired  their  blunder- 
busses without  due  cause  or  provocation. 

The  Post  Ofiice  officials,  undoubtedly,  had  the  guards 
very  much  on  their  minds,  and  sought  to  regulate  their 
condu6l  by  an  extensive  list  of  rules  which  set  forth  what 
a  guard  was  and  was  not  to  do  in  every  conceivable 
emergency. 

He  was  to  see  that  the  coachmen  kept  true  time;  and 
to  report  him  if  he  did  not.  To  blow  his  horn  at  specified 
distances  and  places,  in  order  that  toll-gates  should  be 
open,  fresh  horses  waiting,  mail-bags  ready,  carts  drawn 
out  of  the  way,  that  there  might  be  no  let  or  hindrance 
to  the  expeditious  passage  of  that  arrogantly  important 
vehicle,  His  Majesty's  Mail. 

The  guard's  first  and  foremost  duty  was  to  the  mail- 
bags,  and  the  authorities  could  not  sufficiently  impress 
upon  them  the  paramount  importance  of  the  mails  and 
the  comparative  insignificance  of  the  passengers. 

If  a  coach  broke  down,  overturned,  stuck  in  a  snow- 
drift, was  stopped  by  highwaymen,  or  met  with  any  of 
those  reverses  to  which  the  best  regulated  coaches  were 
liable  at  times,  the  guard  was  not  to  trouble  himself  un- 
duly about  the  passengers.  Their  safety  was  no  concern 


72  THE   COACHING  ERA 

of  his,  he  had  to  attend  to  the  far  more  important  matter 
of  the  mails,  which  must  arrive  true  to  time  whatever 
happened.  For  their  safe  conveyance  the  guard  might 
take  one  or  two  horses  as  he  chose  and,  leaving  the 
coachman  and  passengers  to  get  out  of  the  difficulty  as 
best  they  could,  ride  forward  to  the  next  change.  There 
was  no  statute  to  the  effeft  that  he  might  not  send 
some  one  to  help  the  coach,  but  if  the  next  inn  stables 
contained  only  two  horses,  and  the  guard  wanted  them, 
he  would  most  undoubtedly  take  them.  He  was,  in  fa6l, 
expedled  to  go  on  to  London  as  though  nothing  had 
happened,  to  take  the  mails  either  by  chaise  or  horse- 
back, to  change  at  the  appointed  stages,  and  push  forward 
at  all  hazards. 

That  the  guards  were  loyally  true  to  their  trust  is 
evident  from  the  heroic  efforts  they  made  to  get  forward 
with  the  mails  under  the  most  adverse  circumstances, 
and  against  overwhelming  difficulties.  Joseph  James 
Nobbs,  one  of  the  old  mail-guards,  has  left  an  account  of 
his  experiences  during  the  terrific  snow-storm  of  1836. 
Several  times  his  coach  stuck  in  the  drifts,  and  was 
unable  to  proceed,  when  Nobbs  according  to  his  in- 
struftions  mounted  one  of  the  horses  and  set  off  with  the 
mails,  making  his  way  as  best  he  could  through  the  snow- 
covered  country.  Once  he  was  two  nights  and  days  with- 
out rest,  battling  all  the  while  with  a  raging  snow- 
storm, and  nearly  frozen  with  the  intense  cold.  By  way 
of  reward  for  his  strenuous  exertion  Nobbs  received  a 
letter  of  thanks  from  the  Postmaster  General,  who 
thereby  put  an  exalted  value  on  his  autograph  according 


^W^ 


1^ 


^    5  < 


■J        -^ 


GUARDS  73 

to  the  estimate  of  the  guard,  who  had  expedled  a  more 
material  reward  for  his  strenuous  exertions. 

The  same  winter  the  Birmingham  mail-coach  came 
to  grief  seventy  miles  from  London,  and  the  guard, 
exercising  his  prerogative,  appropriated  two  of  the 
horses  to  carry  the  mails  and  set  out  for  London.  A 
blinding  snow-storm  was  raging  so  that  he  soon  lost 
all  traces  of  the  road,  and  wandered  across  country  over 
hedges  and  ditches,  losing  his  way  more  often  than  he 
found  it.  When  he  eventually  reached  London  he  was 
in  a  distressing  state  of  exhaustion,  but  he  had  done  his 
duty  and  got  his  mails  forward,  a  reward  which  in  itself 
the  Post  Office  deemed  sufficient  recompense. 

That  department,  though  expedling  great  things  of 
the  guards,  was  by  no  means  disposed  to  err  towards 
them  on  the  side  of  generosity.  It  gave  them  a  gorgeous 
uniform,  it  is  true,  no  doubt  realizing  that  an  imposing 
and  slightly  bizarre  appearance  is  of  immense  assistance 
to  any  public  funftionary,  and  goes  a  long  way  to  in- 
spiring respeft.  The  guard's  uniform  consisted  of  a  red 
coat  with  gilt  buttons,  dark  blue  waistcoat,  and  a  hat 
adorned  with  gold  lace  and  a  cockade  ;  these  undoubtedly 
conferred  great  distindlion  on  the  wearer,  who  with  his 
horn  and  key-bugle  was  an  obje£l  of  much  admiration. 

The  Post  Office  only  paid  the  guards  ten  shillings  a 
week,  out  of  which  they  had  to  provide  the  oil  for  their 
lamps,  but  they  by  no  means  depended  on  their  official 
pay  for  a  livelihood,  and  the  position  was  eagerly  sought 
after  on  account  of  the  perquisites  it  entailed.  A  guard 
often  received  as  much  as  three  or  four  pounds  a  week 


74  THE   COACHING  ERA 

in  tips  alone,  and  there  were  many  other  ways  by  which 
they  could  add  to  their  incomes.  V^ery  early  in  their 
career  they  discovered  that  there  was  a  handsome  profit 
to  be  made  by  purchasing  goods  cheaply  in  the  country 
and  selling  them  in  London.  Bayzand  specialized  in 
watercress,  paying  ^i  for  a  sack,  and  receiving  [2  for  it 
from  a  London  dealer. 

The  shopkeepers  depended  largely  on  goods  brought 
up  by  the  guards,  and  great  indeed  was  their  agitation 
when  the  snow-storm  of  1836  caused  the  coaches  to  be 
snowbound  in  the  provinces,  and  in  consequence 
London  was  face  to  face  with  the  awful  prospedl  of  a 
turkeyless  Christmas. 

When  the  Mazeppa  coach  managed  to  struggle 
through,  it  was  met  on  its  arrival  by  a  harassed  poulterer 
who  breathlessly  inquired  of  William  Bayzand  if  he  had 
any  turkeys.  The  guard  replied  that  he  had;  twenty  of 
them  in  fadl,  but  keep  one  for  his  own  Christmas  dinner 
he  must  and  would. 

The  thought  of  nineteen  birds  to  be  divided  among  a 
turkeyless  capital  raised  the  poulterer's  spirits  consider- 
ably, and  he  begged  the  guard  to  sell  them  one  and  all 
to  him,  and  to  name  his  own  price.  This  put  Bayzand 
into  a  predicament,  for  he  was  afraid  of  opening  his 
mouth  too  wide,  and  a  great  deal  more  afraid  of  asking 
too  little.  Seeing  his  hesitation,  the  poulterer,  who  was 
in  an  agony  of  apprehension  lest  a  rival  poulterer  should 
get  wind  of  the  turkeys  and  come  in  pursuit  of  them, 
offered  ;^20.  The  guard  agreed  and  the  bargain  was 
struck,  but  how  poignant  must  have  been  his  feelings 


GUARDS  75 

when  the  purchaser,  secure  in  the  possession  of  the 
nineteen  turkeys,  remarked  that  he  had  been  quite  pre- 
pared to  go  as  high  as  ^30  or  ^40  in  order  to  secure  them. 

Bayzand  and  Foules  driving  one  night  with  an  empty 
coach  had  a  stroke  of  luck  which  occasioned  them  much 
joy.  The  Mazeppa  suddenly  gave  a  lurch  which  showed 
that  she  had  gone  over  something  and  Bayzand  got  down 
to  investigate.  It  proved  to  be  a  bacon  pig,  which  had 
evidently  fallen  out  of  a  waggon  bound  for  Hereford 
market.  Such  a  heaven-sent  gift  could  not  be  negle6ted 
and  the  coachman  and  guard  determined  to  have  it  at 
all  costs.  Bayzand  tried  to  pull  it  towards  the  coach, 
but  it  was  beyond  his  powers.  In  such  cause,  however, 
the  coachman  did  not  scruple  to  risk  the  coach  and  the 
proprietor's  team  of  thoroughbred  horses,  and  he  left 
the  box  and  went  to  his  colleague's  assistance.  Together 
they  started  to  drag  the  prize  along,  but  the  noise  they 
made  startled  the  horses,  and  Foules  was  obliged  to 
rush  to  and  fro  to  quiet  them,  so  that  it  was  some  time 
before  the  pig  was  pulled  up  to  the  coach  and  made  an 
inside  passenger  for  the  rest  of  the  journey.  When  the 
Mazeppa  reached  its  destination  Bayzand  drove  off  in- 
quisitive porters,  and  at  the  first  opportunity  he  and  the 
coachman  carried  their  find  to  the  latter's  house,  where 
they  divided  the  pig  between  them,  and  declared  that 
their  unexpedfed  present  proved  the  best  bacon  they 
had  ever  tasted. 

Many  queer  customers  went  into  the  boot,  ostensibly 
provided  for  the  conveyance  of  passengers'  luggage,  but 
which  at  a  pinch  could  be  made  to  do  duty  as  a  larder  or 


']6  THE   COACHING  ERA 

a  menagerie  cage.  It  provided  a  snug  receptacle  for  the 
conveyance  of  contraband  spirits  and  unlicensed  game, 
for  smugglers  and  poachers  soon  realized  that  there  was 
no  safer  conveyance  than  His  Majesty's  Mails.  Occa- 
sionally officers  of  the  law  would  appear  unexpeftedly 
with  the  avowed  intention  of  searching  the  coach.  Then 
was  the  time  to  see  the  guard  in  all  the  dignity  of  out- 
raged officialdom,  as  he  virtuously  and  indignantly 
upheld  the  inviolable  sandlity  of  His  Majesty's  Mails, 
and  averred  his  firm  determination  to  defend  them  with 
his  life  and  his  blunderbuss.  As  he  was  stri6tly  within  his 
rights,  and  no  one  might  tamper  with  or  delay  the  mails 
without  special  authority,  he  was  thus  enabled  to  pro- 
ceed on  his  journey  and  land  his  contraband  spirit  or  bags 
of  game  in  security.  Some  guards  even  went  so  far  as  to 
use  the  mail-bags  for  their  own  convenience,  and  one. 
who  dealt  extensively  in  fish,  carried  his  goods  in  the 
official  bags,  whereat  the  sorters  at  the  Post  Office 
complained  exceeding  bitterly  that  they  were  nearly 
smothered  with  fish  scales. 

As  the  coaches  constituted  pra61:ically  the  only  means 
of  conveyance,  it  naturally  followed  that  all  sorts  of 
things  were  carried  through  their  medium,  and  when  the 
Earl  of  Shrewsbury  wished  to  send  a  valuable  hound  to 
Mr.  Villebois,  the  master  of  the  Hampshire  hunt,  he 
consigned  it  with  many  admonitions  to  the  care  of  the 
guard  on  the  coach.  For  better  security  it  was  put  in  the 
boot,  but  when  the  coach  arrived  at  Sandwell  Priory  near 
Newbury,  where  Squire  Villebois  was  anxiously  awaiting 
his  hound,  he  was  considerably  chagrined  to  find  it  had 


GUARDS  ^^ 

gnawed  a  hole  in  the  boot  and  escaped.  Subsequently  it 
was  found  that  the  animal  had  made  the  best  of  his  way- 
back  to  the  Shrewsbury  kennels. 

The  boot  often  held  a  pig,  sheep,  or  calf  belonging  to 
the  coachman  or  guard.  Once  it  was  known  to  contain 
a  clergyman  whose  need  to  travel  was  urgent  and  the 
coach  full;  another  time  two  sailors  chose  it  as  being  the 
snuggest  place  in  the  coach. 

They  intended  to  travel  by  the  Champion  coach  from 
Gloucester,  and  were  probably  none  too  sober,  for  just 
as  the  coach  was  about  to  start  one  of  them  fell  off  the 
roof,  into  a  saddler's  shop,  and  cut  himself  so  badly  that 
he  was  unable  to  proceed.  His  companion  refused  to  go 
on  without  him,  and  though  they  had  legally  forfeited 
their  fares  the  book-keeper  sent  them  on  next  day  by  the 
Mazeppa  coach. 

The  sailors  entered  into  conversation  with  Bayzand, 
who  soon  elicited  the  information  that  they  were  on  their 
way  to  London  to  join  their  ship,  and  they  had  not  so 
much  as  a  penny  piece  between  them.  Being  a  kind- 
hearted  man,  he  bought  them  a  loaf  and  a  pint  of  shrimps 
at  Cheltenham,  and  a  glass  of  rum  each  at  Northleach 
to  keep  out  the  cold.  The  tars  were  very  grateful,  and 
as  the  cold  increased  they  spent  most  of  the  journey 
curled  up  fast  asleep  in  the  boot.  When  they  arrived  in 
London  Bayzand  presented  them  with  half  a  crown  each 
and  put  them  in  a  cab. 

"We'll  never  forget  you,  mate,"  cried  the  sailors,  as 
they  drove  off  to  the  Docks. 

The  guard  thought  no  more  of  the  matter,  but  long 


78  THE   COACHING  ERA 

afterwards  the  porter  at  the  booking-office  showed  him  a 
parcel  and  asked  him  if  he  could  make  anything  of  the 
direction  which  he  confessed  fairly  beat  him.  The  address 
certainly  did  not  err  on  the  side  of  lucidity  being  thus: 
"Ga-d-M  -pha-c-h." 

"Why,  I  do  believe  it's  meant  for  me,"  said  Bayzand 
after  some  cogitation,  and  translated  the  inscription  as 
meant  for  the  "Guard  of  the  Mazeppa  coach." 

The  porter  thought  it  might  as  well  be  that  as  any- 
thing else,  and  suggested  the  parcel  should  be  opened. 
When  it  was  untied  it  was  found  to  contain  a  thousand 
cigars  wrapped  up  in  greasy  paper,  and  a  dirty  note  bear- 
ing the  words  "for  your  kindness  to  us  chaps.  Hope  to 
see  you  soon."  The  guard  smoked  the  cigars  and  was 
much  touched  by  the  kindness  of  the  gift,  but  he  never 
saw  either  of  the  sailors  again. 

William  Bayzand  was  known  as  the  business  guard 
from  the  number  of  commissions  he  undertook,  whilst 
John  Blyth  on  the  same  coach  was  called  the  musical 
guard  from  his  skill  on  the  key-bugle.  Key-bugles  were 
far  more  popular  on  the  road  than  the  orthodox  coach 
horn,  but  they  were  eyed  with  disfavour  by  the  Post 
Office,  which  went  so  far  as  to  forbid  the  guards  on  the 
mail-coach  to  carry  them.  The  key-bugles  were,  however, 
inexpressibly  dear  to  the  guards'  hearts,  and  not  to  be 
thrown  lightly  aside  for  a  mere  whim  of  the  authorities. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  prohibition  gave  added  zest 
to  a  performance  on  these  instruments  and,  though  the 
guards  so  far  conformed  as  to  blow  their  long  coach 
horns  decorously  as  they  passed  through  the  streets  of 


GUARDS  79 

London,  they  were  no  sooner  free  from  the  metropolis 
than  they  drew  forth  their  cherished  key-bugles  and 
commenced  to  play  such  classic  airs  as  "The  Flaxen- 
headed  Ploughboy,"  "Cherry  Ripe,"  "Oh,  Nanny!" 
"Oh,  dear,  what  can  the  matter  be?"  to  their  own 
inexpressible  satisfadlion. 

Benson  of  the  Union  was  a  noted  performer  on  the 
key-bugle,  which  served  him  in  good  stead  one  day 
when  the  coach  broke  down  at  Saxmundham.  It  hap- 
pened that  a  conjurer  about  to  give  an  entertainment  was 
at  a  loss  to  provide  the  music  with  which  to  distract  the 
attention  of  his  audience  whilst  he  performed  various 
necessary  adjustments  for  the  successful  performance 
of  his  tricks.  He  therefore  came  to  Benson  with  the 
request  that  he  would  come  and  bring  his  key-bugle  and 
supply  the  place  of  orchestra.  Benson  agreed,  and  the 
entertainment  was  a  complete  success. 

Benson  was  also  a  clever  ventriloquist,  and  once 
exercised  his  power  for  the  mystification  of  two  gentle- 
men. The  coach  was  waiting  at  the  Peacock  Inn, 
Islington,  when  a  gig  with  a  dog  tied  beneath  it  drove 
by.  Suddenly  the  air  was  filled  with  the  most  hideous 
sounds  of  a  dog  yapping  and  howling  in  the  extremity  of 
pain.  The  gentlemen  supposing  they  had  run  over  the 
animal  jumped  out  of  the  gig,  and  were  considerably 
surprised  to  find  the  dog  blandly  unconscious  of  anything 
untoward.  They  resumed  their  places  in  the  gig,  but 
scarcely  had  the  horse  started  when  the  melancholy 
howls  were  renewed,  and  they  again  dismounted.  The 
dog  wagged  his  tail,  and  the  shouts  of  the  onlookers 


8o  THE   COACHING  ERA 

warned  the  gentlemen  that  they  had  been  hoaxed,  and 
that  the  innocent  looking  guard  had  been  exercising  his 
ventriloquistic  powers  for  their  benefit. 

Another  time  Benson  entered  an  inn  in  a  state  of 
intense  indignation  declaring  that  some  one  had  put  a 
pig  in  the  boot  of  his  coach.  If  any  proof  was  needed 
it  was  supplied  by  the  agonized  screams  which  proceeded 
from  the  coach. 

The  rustics  gathered  round  and  gave  many  sugges- 
tions as  to  how  to  secure  the  pig  which  was  making  a 
perfect  pandemonium  in  the  boot.  Benson  enjoyed 
their  mystification  till  it  was  time  to  start,  when  he 
opened  the  door  and  showed  the  astonished  villagers 
that  the  boot  contained  nothing  but  parcels  and  other 
inanimate  goods. 

In  times  of  stress  or  emergency  guards  were  often 
called  upon  to  perform  temporary  repairs  and  for  this 
purpose  they  were  provided  with  a  tool-box,  which  was 
in  constant  requisition  when  wheels  came  off,  axle- 
trees  gave  way,  or  poles  broke,  which  they  did  with  dis- 
tressing frequency.  As  a  rule  the  coach  carried  a  spare 
pole,  but  if  it  did  not  the  guard  on  a  stage-coach,  who 
was  not  bowed  down  with  the  responsibility  of  the  mails, 
had  to  get  down  and  make  the  best  job  he  could  of  it. 
The  passengers,  hardened  by  experience,  were  resigned  to 
such  contretemps  and  would  settle  down  composedly  to 
a  game  of  cards,  whilst  the  guard  with  the  help  of  a 
commandeered  sheep  hurdle  patched  the  broken  pole 
to  the  best  of  his  ability. 

The  guards  on  the  stage  were  expelled  to  render  the 


GUARDS  8i 

coachman  every  possible  assistance,  from  the  mending 
of  a  splintered  pole  to  the  putting  on  of  the  drag.  The 
latter  performance  was  not  altogether  devoid  of  danger, 
and  one  day  Bayzand  slipped  and  fell,  catching  his  foot 
in  the  roller  bolt;  when  his  cries  for  assistance  were  at 
length  heard  he  was  extricated  from  his  perilous  position, 
with  one  of  his  toes  broken.  He  was  taken  to  the  Staple 
Hotel  at  Witney,  and  a  doctor  came  and  put  the  matter 
right,  but  the  luckless  guard  was  destined  to  prove  the 
trite  maxim  that  misfortunes  never  come  singly,  for  the 
old  woman  deputed  to  attend  on  him  administered  the 
dressing  for  his  foot  as  internal  medicine,  and  Bayzand's 
career  nearly  came  to  an  abrupt  termination  in  con- 
sequence. 

A  guard  on  every  coach  would  seem  an  indispensable 
adjunft,  but  they  were  often  looked  on  more  in  the  light 
of  a  luxury  than  a  necessity.  A  traveller  from  Ross 
refused  Bayzand  his  tip  on  the  plea  that  on  a  day  coach 
he  was  a  superfluity.  The  guard  in  question  thought 
unutterable  things,  but  his  spirits  revived  a  little  when 
he  discovered  a  bag  belonging  to  the  niggardly  gentle- 
man; if  a  guard  was  not  needed  it  was  clearly  no  place  of 
his  to  look  after  the  luggage,  and  he  promptly  sent  it  off 
to  the  receiving  office. 

Next  day  the  passenger  came  In  quest  of  his  property 

and  was  told  where  to  go  for  it.  The  incident  apparently 

convinced  him  of  the  inadvisability  of  incurring  the 

enmity  of  the  guard,  for  on  his  return  journey  he  took  a 

seat  next  to  him,  and  both  tacitly  ignoring  their  late 

difference  of  opinion  chatted  pleasantly  together,  and 
6 


82  THE   COACHING   ERA 

at  the  end  of  the  journey  he  presented  Bayzand  with  a 
crown  piece. 

The  Mazeppa  occasionally  had  another  passenger 
whose  liberality  in  the  matter  of  tips  astonished  both 
guard  and  coachman.  This  eccentric  gentleman  carried 
his  money  loose  in  his  coat-tail  pocket,  and  when  he 
tipped  on  leaving  the  coach,  he  put  his  hand  into  his 
pockets  and  drew  out  a  handful  of  coins  without  looking 
at  them.  On  one  occasion  the  coachman  received  three 
sovereigns  and  a  sixpence,  and  the  guard  six  sovereigns 
a  shilling  and  a  sixpence. 

When  things  were  lost  during  a  coach  journey  pas- 
sengers claimed  compensation,  and  one  day  the  horse- 
keeper  of  the  Bolt  and  Tun  Inn  informed  Bayzand  that 
a  gentleman  from  Cheltenham  declared  he  had  lost  his 
cloak  when  on  the  Mazeppa — a  very  fine  cloak  it  was, 
too,  from  the  description  given,  "a  rich  camlet,  lined 
with  real  fur"  and  the  value  he  put  on  it  ^15,  15s. 

Bayzand  always  made  a  point  of  taking  the  numbers  of 
the  hackney-coaches,  and  he  distinftiy  remembered  the 
gentleman  in  question  had  gone  off  in  No.  666  and, 
moreover,  his  cloak  had  gone  with  him,  for  the  guard 
recalled  the  fa(Sl  that  a  tassel  of  it  caught  in  the  door  as 
it  shut. 

When  the  gentleman  appeared  clamouring  for  the 
return  of  his  cloak,  or  £15,  15s.  in  lieu  thereof,  he  was 
escorted  to  the  receiving  office  by  Bayzand  and  the 
bookkeeper.  Sure  enough  there  was  the  cloak,  but 
how  different  from  the  owner's  description! — shabby 
and  threadbare  and  not  worth  15s.! 


GUARDS  83 

Bankers  frequently  entrusted  the  guards  with  im- 
mense sums  of  money,  and  paid  them  at  the  rate  of  half 
a  crown  a  parcel,  which,  considering  the  responsibility 
incurred,  was  by  no  means  adequate  remuneration. 
Thieves  were  ever  on  the  watch  to  intercept  these 
bankers'  parcels  if  possible,  and  one  gang  accomplished 
their  design  in  a  decidedly  ingenious  manner.  They 
were  all  men  of  prosperous  and  well-bred  appearance,  and 
two  of  them  booked  seats  inside  the  coach  at  the  Swan 
with  Two  Necks,  and  the  others  got  in  at  Islington.  They 
left  the  coach  at  different  places  on  the  road,  no  sus- 
picions were  entertained  that  anything  was  wrong  till 
the  coach  arrived  at  Coventry,  where  a  bank  clerk  was 
waiting  to  receive  the  parcel  which  contained  ;^300  in 
gold  and  a  bill  of  exchange  for  ^150.  It  was  then  dis- 
covered that  the  inside  passengers  had  cut  out  a  panel 
at  the  back  of  the  coach,  abstracted  the  banker's  parcel, 
and  got  clean  away  with  it  without  anyone  being  the 
wiser. 

Bayzand  was  warned  one  day  that  an  attempt  would 
be  made  to  obtain  a  parcel  he  carried  for  a  banker,  which 
information  naturally  threw  him  into  a  state  of  extreme 
consternation.  He  eventually  placed  the  parcel  beneath 
a  seat  where  two  elderly  and  blissfully  unconscious  old 
ladies  sat  on  it  throughout  the  journey.  Some  suspicious 
looking  characters  joined  the  coach  at  Gloucester,  and 
Bayzand  had  an  anxious  time  of  it  till  he  reached  London 
and  handed  over  the  parcel  to  its  rightful  owners.  After 
this  fright  he  demanded  a  higher  rate  of  payment, 
which,   however,    the   bankers   refused   to   allow,   and 


84  THE   COACHING  ERA 

shortly  after  having  occasion  to  send  ;^5oo  they  entrusted 
it  to  one  of  their  clerks.  He  did  not  appear  to  be  over- 
whelmed with  the  responsibility,  for  he  dismounted  from 
the  coach  at  one  of  the  changes,  and  it  went  on  without 
him.  Soon  after  the  guard  heard  the  noise  of  furious 
galloping,  and  the  banker's  clerk,  white  with  fright, 
dashed  up  on  one  of  the  leaders  of  the  last  stage  with  its 
reins  and  traces  still  on. 

"Where  is  my  parcel?"  gasped  the  clerk. 

The  guard  disclaimed  any  knowledge  of  it,  and  the 
terrified  clerk  scrambled  on  to  the  roof  of  the  coach 
in  search  of  it,  and  to  his  intense  relief  discovered  the  bag 
hanging  on  the  rail  of  the  coach,  from  which  it  would 
have  fallen  in  a  few  moments. 

The  guards  were  exposed  to  all  weathers,  but  by 
enveloping  themselves  in  an  extensive  colledtion  of  coats 
and  waterproofs  they  managed  to  keep  fairly  dry  them- 
selves, but  what  annoyed  them  greatly  was  the  fact 
that  the  rain  made  their  seat  on  the  coach  wet  and 
uncomfortable.  William  Bayzand,  being  of  an  ingenious 
turn  of  mind,  had  a  bright  idea;  he  purchased  a  gridiron, 
removed  the  hands,  fixed  it  on  his  seat  and  strapped  the 
cushions  on  the  top.  By  this  means  he  was  able  to  keep 
his  seat  dry  and  comfortable,  and  the  other  guards  from 
the  Bolt-in-Tun  and  Bull-in-Mouth  yards  adopted  his 
plan,  and  in  honour  of  the  inventor  named  it  the 
Mazeppa  patent. 


CHAPTER  VI  COACHING  COMPETITION 

THE  early  coaching  days  knew  no  such  thing 
as  competition;  the  heavy  cumbersome  old 
coaches  went  their  own  way,  and  took  their 
own  time  as  it  seemed  best  to  them,  secure 
in  the  comfortable  convidlion  that  however  much  the 
public  might  grumble  they  had  no  redress.  Dissatisfied 
passengers  could  not  then  transfer  their  patronage  to 
"the  opposition,"  and  had  either  to  make  the  best  of 
things  as  they  were  or  remain  at  home. 

The  introduction  of  mail-coaches  in  1784  altered  this, 
for  they  set  a  standard  of  perfe6lion  heretofore  undreamt 
of,  and  in  consequence  the  proprietors  of  the  old  stage- 
coaches found  their  receipts  dwindling  with  alarming 
rapidity.  Passengers  naturally  preferred  to  travel  by  a 
conveyance  which  could  be  depended  upon  to  arrive 
at  the  scheduled  time,  and  not  at  any  indefinite  hour 
of  the  twenty-four  as  had  hitherto  been  the  leisurely 
custom. 

The  coach  proprietors,  seeing  these  things  and  realizing 
that  they  were  inevitable,  rose  to  the  occasion  and, 
with  the  intention  of  giving  the  "go  by"  to  the  mails, 
they  built  new  and  better  constructed  coaches,  horsed 
them  with  superior  cattle,  employed  brisker  coachmen, 
and  thoroughly  reorganized  their  establishments. 

The  great  disadvantage  of  the  mails  was  that  they 
travelled  chiefly  by  night,  and  the  stage-coach  pro- 
prietors soon  saw  that  if  they  put  on  the  road  a  service  of 
fast  day  coaches,  in  speed  and  appointments  equal  to  the 

8s 


86  THE   COACHING   ERA 

mails,  they  would  make  a  bold  and  probably  successful 
bid  for  popularity. 

In  this  supposition  they  were  correft,  and  so  great  was 
the  rivalry  and  emulation,  not  only  between  the  stages 
and  mails  but  among  the  different  coaching  yards,  that 
in  consequence  everything  connedled  with  coaching 
was  brought  to  the  highest  state  of  perfeftion. 

"Nimrod,"  the  celebrated  sporting  writer,  contri- 
buted an  article  to  the  Quarterly  Review  for  1832,  in 
which  he  eulogized  the  improvements  in  coaching, 
saying:  "The  fairy  petted  princes  of  The  Arabian 
Nights^  Entertainments  were  scarcely  transported  from 
place  to  place  with  more  facility  or  despatch,  than 
Englishmen  are  in  a.d.  1832.  From  Liverpool  to  Man- 
chester, thirty-six  miles  in  an  hour  and  a  half!  Surely 
Daedalus  is  come  amongst  us  again." 

To  instance  some  of  the  great  advances,  he  then  gives 
the  supposititious  case  of  an  old  gentleman  falling  asleep 
in  1742  and  waking  up  suddenly  in  Piccadilly  in  1832, 
desirous  of  returning  to  his  home  at  Exeter.  Just  then 
up  drives  the  Comet  with  its  team  of  greys. 

"You  must  be  quick  as  lightning,"  says  a  loafer  stand- 
ing by,  and  though  the  old  gentleman  declares  the 
Comet  is  no  stage-coach,  but  a  private  drag,  he  is  shoved 
into  it,  "having  been  three  times  assured  that  his  luggage 
is  in  the  hind  boot,  and  twice  three  times  denied  having 
ocular  demonstration  of  the  fadf."  He  mistakes  the 
coachman  for  a  gentleman  and,  when  he  has  been  cor- 
rected, proceeds  to  expose  his  ignorance  on  other  coach- 
ing matters. 


COACHING   COMPETITION  87 

The  Comet  arrives  at  Hounslow  in  five  minutes  under 
the  hour,  and  the  old  gentleman  has  pleasurable  thoughts 
of  breakfast,  but  when  he  puts  his  head  out  of  the 
window,  to  call  to  the  waiter,  he  is  thrown  back  with  a 
jerk  which  renders  him  speechless.  Recovering  a  little, 
he  inquires  why  they  did  not  change  horses  at  Hounslow. 
His  companion  assured  him  they  did — only  one  minute 
allowed  for  so  doing. 

"You  astonish  me;  but  really  I  do  not  like  to  go  so 
fast,"  says  the  bewildered  old  gentleman  of  1742. 

"Oh,  sir,  we  always  spring  them  over  these  six  miles. 
It  is  what  we  call  the  hospital  ground.''''  This  alarming 
phrase  is  presently  interpreted:  it  intimates  that  horses 
whose  "backs  are  getting  down  instead  of  up  in  their 
work,"  some  "that  won't  hold  an  ounce  downhill,  or 
draw  an  ounce  up,"  others  "that  kick  over  the  pole  one 
day  and  over  the  bars  the  next";  in  short  all  the  repro- 
bates, styled  in  the  road  slang  bokickers^  are  sent  to  work 
these  six  miles — because  here  they  have  nothing  to  do  but 
gallop." 

The  coach  goes  faster  and  faster  as  the  "bokickers  " 
feel  their  legs,  the  coach  rocks  and  the  old  gentleman  is 
convinced  that  the  horses  are  running  away.  At  Staines 
he  gets  out  of  the  coach  to  see  how  it  is  possible  for 
horses  to  be  changed  in  one  minute,  instead  of  half  an 
hour,  as  in  his  young  days.  He  has  been  positively 
assured  that  the  fresh  team  is  a  steady  one,  containing  no 
"bokickers,"  but  when  he  sees  a  fine  thoroughbred  horse 
led  towards  the  coach  with  a  twitch  on  his  nose,  he  ex- 
claims apprehensively:  "Holloa,  Mr.  Horse-keeper,  you 


88  THE   COACHING   ERA 

are  not  going  to  put  an  unruly  horse  in  the  coach?"  The 
man  replies  that  it  is  "the  quietest  hanimal  alive,"  but 
the  old  gentleman  is  not  much  reassured,  for  he  hears 
the  coachman  say  urgently:  "Mind  what  you  are  about, 
Bob,  don't  let  him  touch  the  roller  bolt!" 

The  passengers  take  their  seats.  "Let  'em  go,  and 
take  care  of  yourselves,"  says  the  coachman,  and  the 
"staid  and  steady  team"  start — "the  near  leader  rears 
right  on  end,  and  if  the  reins  had  not  been  yielded  to  him 
at  the  instant  he  would  have  fallen  backwards  on  the 
head  of  the  pole.  The  moment  the  twitch  was  taken  from 
the  nose  of  the  thoroughbred  near  wheeler,  he  drew 
himself  back  to  the  extent  of  his  pole  chain  on  his  fore- 
legs stretched  out  before  him — and  then,  like  a  lion 
loosened  from  his  toil,  made  a  snatch  at  the  coach  that 
would  have  broken  two  pairs  of  traces  in  1742." 

The  old  gentleman  has  one  glimmer  of  comfort,  he  is 
not  asked  to  walk  up  the  hills.  Even  that  is  shortlived, 
for  going  down  a  hill  the  coach  presses  on  the  thorough- 
bred, which  annoys  him  so  much  that  he  breaks  into  a 
gallop,  the  rest  of  the  team  join  in,  and  away  goes  the 
coach  at  a  terrific  rate,  frightening  the  old  gentleman 
nearly  out  of  his  senses. 

At  Bagshot  he  gets  out  of  the  Comet  with  all  possible 
despatch,  and  declines  to  return  to  it  at  any  price.  He 
recounts  his  harrowing  experiences  to  the  waiter,  and 
pathetically  inquires  if  there  is  such  a  thing  as  a  slow 
coach  left. 

"Why,  yes,  sir,"  replies  John,  "we  shall  have  the 
Regulator  down  in  an  hour." 


COACHING  COMPETITION  89 

The  very  thing,  thinks  the  old  man  and  sits  down  to 
dinner. 

When  the  Regulator  arrives  it  is  full  inside,  and  the 
old  gentleman  mounts  to  the  roof,  and  off  they  go  at  a 
steady  pace,  to  the  tune  of  "Scots  wha  hae  wi'  Wallace 
bled"  on  the  guard's  key-bugle.  All  goes  well  till  they 
come  to  the  "galloping  ground,"  when  the  Regulator 
takes  exactly  twenty-three  minutes  to  do  the  five  miles 
and  the  coach,  having  a  ton  of  luggage  on  the  roof,  rocks 
and  rolls  like  a  ship  at  sea. 

The  driver  of  the  Comet,  on  his  return  coach,  met  the 
Regulator  and  thus  described  the  unhappy  situation  of 
his  late  passenger.  "He  was  seated  with  his  back  to  the 
horses — his  arms  extended  to  each  extremity  of  the 
guard-irons,  his  teeth  set  grim  as  death  and  his  eyes  cast 
downwards  to  the  ground,  thinking  the  less  he  saw  of  his 
danger  the  better." 

The  lurching  was  awful  and,  when  the  Regulator 
reached  Hertford  bridge,  the  old  gentleman's  nerves  are 
shattered,  and  he  exclaims:  "I  will  walk  into  Devon- 
shire!" 

Feeling,  however,  that  his  legs  could  not  accomplish 
this  pedestrian  feat,  he  inquired  what  it  would  cost  to 
"post"  to  Exeter.  Twenty  pounds  is  the  reply.  Too 
much  thinks  the  old  gentleman,  and  is  persuaded  to  give 
the  Quicksilver  Mail  a  trial  on  the  assurance  that  it  does 
not  carry  any  luggage. 

Now  the  Devonport  Mail,  commonly  called  the  Quick- 
silver, was  one  of  the  miracles  of  the  road,  is  a  mile  an 
hour  faster  than  the  Comet,  and  at  least  three  miles 


90  THE   COACHING   ERA 

quicker  than  the  Regulator,  so  the  luckless  old  gentleman 
is  in  a  worse  situation  than  ever;  his  hat  and  wig  blow 
off  when  he  puts  his  head  out  of  the  window,  to  see  if 
the  horses  are  running  away,  and  he  is  whirled  away 
into  Devonshire  at  a  pace  unprecedented  in  1742. 

The  proprietors,  at  variance  on  most  matters,  all 
agreed  that  Shakespeare  erred  very  considerably  in  his 
estimation  as  to  the  importance  of  nomenclature.  A 
rose  might  thrive  equally  well  under  the  unpoetical 
designation  of  onion;  horticulture  was  not  their  province 
and  they  would  not  dispute  the  assertion,  but  coaches 
were  a  very  different  matter,  and  there  was  no  doubt 
that  the  names  painted  on  them  very  materially  in- 
fluenced their  reputation  and  the  class  of  their  customers. 

This  fail  being  indisputable,  coach  proprietors  vied 
with  each  other  to  invent  names  which  should  appeal 
to  the  public,  and  indicate  to  a  great  degree  the  nature 
of  the  coach,  and  the  people  it  especially  catered  for. 
Sportsmen  would  naturally  choose  to  travel  by  coaches 
whose  very  names  caused  their  pulses  to  beat  quicker, 
and  recalled  the  delights  of  field  or  turf,  as  The  Berkeley 
Hunt,  The  Beaufort  Hunt,  The  Tally-ho,  Hieover, 
Hieaway,  Hark  Forward,  Rover,  Tantivy,  Flying 
Childers,  Highmettled  Racer,  etc. 

For  the  young  bloods,  whose  nerves  were  good  and 
whose  fetish  was  speed,  there  were  the  coaches  whose 
names  indicated  furious  velocity:  The  Quicksilver, 
Meteor,  The  Dart,  The  Vivid,  The  Highflier,  The 
Rocket,  The  Express,  The  Lightning,  The  Rapid, 
The  Telegraph,  and  The  Alert. 


COACHING   COMPETITION  91 

To  the  same  class  belonged  those  called  after  animals 
renowned  for  swiftness  of  limb  or  wing:  The  Greyhound, 
The  Antelope,  The  Reindeer,  The  Stag,  The  Spread 
Eagle,  The  Swallow,  and  so  forth. 

The  very  sound  of  such  names  would  be  enough  to 
terrify  nervous  old  ladies  and  gentlemen  nearly  out  of 
their  seven  senses.  But,  as  old  ladies  and  gentlemen 
formed  no  inconsiderable  portion  of  travellers,  they  were 
provided  with  steady  going  coaches  such  as  The  Life 
Preserver,  The  Good  Intent,  The  Accommodation, 
The  Reliance,  and  others  with  names  equally  solid  or 
respeftable. 

For  the  loyally  inclined  there  were  The  Star  of 
Brunswick,  The  Regent,  The  Royal  Clarence,  The  Prince 
of  Wales,  The  Princess  Charlotte,  The  Queen,  and  The 
Roval  William. 

Soldiers  and  Patriots  would  be  attracted  by  the  names 
of  famous  commanders  and  their  viftories,  such  as  The 
Duke  of  Wellington,  The  Lord  Nelson,  The  Rodney, 
The  Trafalgar. 

Topical  events  were  often  utilized  by  astute  pro- 
prietors, and  the  excitement  caused  by  the  Balloon 
ascents  made  that  name  a  common  one,  whilst  the  ap- 
pearance of  a  Comet  in  the  sky  gave  rise  to  a  number  of 
Comets  on  the  road,  and  the  introduction  of  railways 
was  responsible  for  such  inappropriate  titles  as  The 
Railway,  and  The  Steam  Horse  coaches. 

Names  instinct  with  bitter  rivalry  were  The  Spitfire 
and  The  Vixen,  which  did  their  level  best  to  run  each 
other  off  the  North  Road.  The  Retaliator  threatened 


92  THE   COACHING  ERA 

darkly  if  opposed;  the  Defiance  boldly  challenged 
competition;  The  Eclipse,  arrogantly  conscious  of  its 
merits;  The  Fearless,  secure  in  its  own  perfection;  The 
Magnet  attradfed  customers;  The  Argus  so  wideawake 
that  no  subterfuge  on  the  part  of  its  opponent  could 
escape  it;  and  The  Peerless,  which  disdained  the  possi- 
bility of  a  rival  to  its  perfedlions. 

Very  different  to  these  challenging  names  were  those 

.of  coaches  which  pursued  their  own  way  and  eschewed 

competition,  as  The  Live  and  Let  Live,  The  Give  and 

Take,  Economy  without  Monopoly,  and  others  of  like 

import. 

The  names  painted  on  the  backs  of  the  coaches  were 
by  no  means  the  only  steps  taken  for  their  advertisement, 
for  when  competition  was  so  keen  coach  proprietors 
were  ever  on  the  watch  for  some  telling  point  that 
would  proclaim  the  superiority  of  their  coaches,  or  pour 
derision  and  ridicule  on  the  opposition. 

So  fierce  was  the  hatred  and  competition  that  existed, 
that  proprietors  would  go  to  extraordinary  lengths  in 
their  endeavour  to  drive  a  hated  rival  off  the  road,  and 
persist  in  their  endeavour  until  one  or  both  were  ruined. 

The  first  bait  to  catch  travellers  was  to  lower  the 
prices,  and  once  two  coaches  started  to  do  this  there  was 
no  knowing  where  they  would  end.  When  one  of  these 
contests  was  in  progress  on  the  Bath  and  Cheltenham 
Road,  the  fares  descended  from  ^i,  is.  to  15s.;  then  with 
a  run  to  los.,  7s.  6d.,  5s.,  2s.  6d.  and  is.  Matters  did  not 
stop  even  there,  for  neither  of  the  coaches  would  give 
way  or  come  to  a  compromise,  and  one  of  them  adver- 


COACHING   COMPETITION  93 

tised  its  intention  of  carrying  its  passengers  for  nothing. 
The  other  coach,  not  to  be  outdone,  immediately 
caused  it  to  be  noised  abroad  that  not  only  would  it  take 
passengers  free,  but  give  them  a  good  dinner  into  the 
bargain! 

The  usual  way  to  settle  rivalry  was  by  trial  of  speed, 
and,  though  coach  proprietors  publicly  deplored  this 
dangerous  custom,  there  is  every  reason  to  believe  that 
many  of  them  secretly  connived  at  it.  The  coachmen 
openly  gloried  in  it,  and  so  jealous  were  they  for  the 
reputation  of  their  respeftive  coaches  that  the  very 
sight  of  the  opposition  caused  their  blood  to  boil,  and 
race  they  would,  despite  innumerable  Acts  of  Parliament, 
and  heedless  of  the  safety  of  their  unhappy  passengers. 

Away  would  go  the  coach  at  a  gallop,  grazing  corners, 
careering  down  hills  at  breakneck  speed,  whilst  the 
passengers  clung  despairingly  to  their  seats,  and  threa- 
tened to  report  everything  and  everybody  if  they  ever 
got  safely  to  their  destination,  which,  however,  they 
entertained  very  little  hope  of  doing.  The  coachman 
and  guard  were  deaf  to  all  entreaties,  the  latter  far  too 
occupied  in  playing  "See  the  Conquering  Hero  Comes," 
whilst  the  former  was  conscious  of  nothing  but  the 
opposition  coach  thundering  in  the  rear,  and  a  grim 
determination  not  to  allow  it  to  pass  at  any  price,  even 
if  he  had  to  follow  the  desperate  example  of  the  driver 
of  one  on  the  Portsmouth  road,  who  in  order  to  prevent 
the  opposition  coach  passing  pulled  his  own  leaders  sud- 
denly across  the  road  in  front  of  it. 

Anything  for  the  honour  of  the  coach  was  the  old 


94  THE   COACHING   ERA 

coachman's  motto,  so  that  it  is  little  wonder  that 
accidents  became  distressingly  frequent  and  the  news- 
papers contained  harrowing  accounts,  of  which  the 
following  taken  from  the  Oxford  Journal  for  July  26th, 
1 817,  is  a  typical  example: 

"On  Thursday  last  Spencer's  opposition  Gloucester 
coach,  on  its  way  to  London,  was  overturned  near 
Burford,  by  which  Mr.  Thomas  Heath  of  this  city  had 
his  leg  so  dreadfully  fraftured  as  to  be  obliged  to  suffer 
amputation.  There  were  four  inside  and  three  outside 
passengers,  most  of  whom  were  severely  bruised;  and 
the  coachman  was  left  in  a  dangerous  state. 

"We  cannot  deprecate  in  too  strong  terms  the  present 
infamous  practice  of  coaches  racing  each  other,  by  which 
the  lives  of  the  passengers  are  put  in  imminent  danger, 
merely  from  the  caprice  of  the  drivers.  The  above  coach 
was  going  at  the  rate  of  twelve  miles  an  hour." 

May-Day  was  the  great  time  for  racing  and  trials  of 
speed,  and  by  tacit  agreement  rules  and  penalties  were 
suspended,  it  being  understood  that  passengers  who  were 
foolhardy  enough  to  get  on  a  coach  on  May-Day  did  so 
at  their  own  peril.  The  coaches,  done  up  in  honour  of 
the  occasion,  were  brilliant  with  red,  yellow,  blue,  and 
green  paint,  or  whatever  happened  to  be  their  pre- 
dominant colour,  for,  unlike  the  mails,  the  stages  were 
not  uniform  in  shape  or  design,  but  painted  and  decked 
out  according  to  the  fancy  of  their  proprietors. 

On  May-Day,  then,  the  stage-coaches  appeared  in  all 
their  glory,  with  horses  groomed  to  perfection,  resplen- 
dent in  new  sets  of  brown  harness  and  embroidered 


^,  =^^ 


o    ^ 


•^ 


COACHING   COMPETITION  95 

saddle-cloths,  whilst  the  stable-boys  decorated  them 
with  rosettes  and  arches  of  flowers  over  their  heads. 
Coachmen  and  guards  cut  a  brave  dash  in  new  scarlet 
coats,  white  breeches,  top  boots,  white  hats,  and  wearing 
large  bouquets  of  flowers.  The  coachmen  had  their  whips 
tied  with  coloured  ribbons,  and  the  guards'  bugles  were 
equally  gay.  Festoons  of  evergreens  and  flowers  hung 
down  the  sides  of  the  coach,  and  gaily  coloured  arches 
spanned  the  luggage  on  the  roof. 

The  villages  on  the  different  roads  had  a  merry  time 
of  it  when  the  May-Day  coaches  raced  on  their  way 
enveloped  in  clouds  of  dust,  as  they  bravely  endeavoured 
to  break  all  records  in  the  matter  of  speed. 

One  of  the  most  famous  May-Day  feasts  was  the  race 
between  the  Age  and  the  Royal  William  which  for  a  long 
time  ran  in  opposition  on  the  Oxford  Road.  So  keen  was 
the  rivalry,  and  so  thoroughly  did  the  different  horse- 
keepers  enter  into  the  quarrel,  that  the  whole  length  of 
the  road  was  impregnated  with  the  question  of  their 
superiority.  One  of  the  ostlers  of  the  Age  arranged  a 
string  of  stable  buckets  across  the  road  with  the  avowed 
intention  of  delaying  the  Royal  William.  The  Koyal 
William,  however,  was  not  going  to  be  stopped  by  a 
miserable  device  of  the  opposition,  and  when  Major 
Fane,  an  amateur  driving  at  the  time,  saw  the  array  of 
buckets  designed  for  his  undoing,  he  gathered  his  team 
together,  put  them  at  a  gallop,  and  charged  straight  for 
the  obstacle,  cleared  them  in  safety  and  went  on  tri- 
umphant, leaving  the  Age  buckets  a  mass  of  splinters  on 
the  road. 


96  THE   COACHING   ERA 

The  two  coaches  left  Oxford  at  1 1  o'clock  and  were  due 
in  London  at  4.30,  but  the  Age  usually  managed  to  beat 
its  rival  by  a  few  minutes.  This  so  weighed  on  the  soul 
of  William  Snowden  of  the  Royal  William  that  he 
determined  when  May-Day  came  he  would  get  the  better 
of  his  rival.  Accordingly  on  April  30th,  1834,  ^^  S^^^ 
stringent  orders  to  the  horse-keepers  down  the  road  to 
have  everything  in  readiness  so  that  there  might  be  no 
let  or  hindrance  to  his  design  of  beating  the  Age  all  to 
nothing.  It  happened  that  the  plan  leaked  out,  and 
came  to  the  ears  of  Joe  Tollit,  the  coachman  of  the  Age, 
who  wasn't  going  to  have  his  coach  beaten  if  he  knew 
anything  about  it,  and  he  laid  his  plans  accordingly. 

The  eventful  morning  came,  and  the  Royal  William 
left  the  Golden  Cross  at  Oxford  with  four  browns,  whilst 
the  Age  started  from  the  Vine  Hotel  in  the  High  Street 
with  a  mixed  team.  The  two  coaches  tore  along  the 
Oxford  Road  to  the  accompaniment  of  various  martial 
airs  on  the  key-bugles  of  their  respe6live  guards. 

Joe  Tollit  on  the  Age  won,  getting  into  London  at 
2.40,  thus  doing  the  fifty-four  miles  in  three  hours  and 
forty  minutes:  "I  was  just  over  two  hours  going  to 
Wycombe,  leaving  that  place  exactly  at  i  o'clock,  and 
I  hour  40  minutes  going  from  Wycombe  to  London. 
The  Old  Blenheim  coach  left  the  Star  Hotel  at  9  o'clock, 
and  we  passed  it  at  Gerrard's  Cross  twenty  miles  from 
London,  and  though  we  had  to  wait  at  Uxbridge  for 
the  horses  were  not  harnessed,  and  at  Acton  I  had  to 
drive  the  same  team  back  to  town  that  had  just  come 
down,  and  had  to  help  harness  them.  I  had  a  lady  just 


COACHING  COMPETITION  97 

behind  me,  and  I  asked  her  when  at  Netting  Hill  if  she 
felt  at  all  alarmed,  and  she  said  not  in  the  least,  her  only 
fear  was  that  her  friends  would  not  be  at  the  Bell  and 
Crown,  Holborn,  to  meet  her.  This  turned  out  to  be  the 
case,  so  I  put  her  into  a  growler  and  sent  her  home. 
Sir  Henry  Peyton — of  four-in-hand  renown — met  James 
Castle,  the  driver  of  the  Blenheim  in  Oxford  Street, 
and  said:  'Well,  what's  become  of  the  Age  and  Royal 
William;  I  thought  they  were  to  be  in  town  before  you 
to-day?'  'Well,'  he  said,  'so  they  are,  I  should  think,  for 
they  passed  me  while  I  was  changing  horses  at  Gerrard's 
Cross,  and  I  have  not  seen  them  since,  and  if  they  have 
not  had  a  jolly  good  dinner  before  this  time  they  have 
been  very  idle.'" 

The  famous  Shrewsbury  coach.  The  Wonder,  con- 
sidered the  last  word  in  coaching  perfeftion,  was  the 
darling  of  its  proprietors,  and  the  wonder  and  envy  of  all 
other  coach  proprietors.  In  due  time  a  presumptuous 
rival,  named  the  Nimrod,  was  put  on  the  road  to  compete 
with  this  coaching  paragon.  The  proprietors  of  the 
Wonder  would  not  allow  it  to  imperil  its  precious 
reputation  by  engaging  in  such  a  vulgar  performance 
as  racing,  but  the  very  idea  of  its  being  eclipsed  by  the 
Nimrod  was  unthinkable.  They  sought  a  way  out  of  the 
difficulty  by  putting  another  coach  called  the  Stag  on 
the  road,  whose  avowed  intention  was  to  compete  with, 
and  beat  the  presumptuous  Nimrod.  For  a  year  these 
two  coaches  raced  daily  at  headlong  speed,  whilst  the 
Wonder  continued  its  accustomed  pace,  and  attained 
such  a  reputation  for  accuracy  that  the  people  along  the 
7 


98  THE   COACHING   ERA 

road  were  accustomed  to  set  their  watches  by  it.  At 
the  end  of  the  year  the  Stag  was  taken  off,  having 
accomplished  its  purpose  and  run  the  Nimrod  off  the 
road. 

So  dearly  did  the  old  coachmen  love  a  race  that,  if 
they  could  not  pit  themselves  against  the  opposition, 
they  were  perfeftly  ready  to  make  a  trial  of  speed  with 
anyone  of  a  sporting  tendency,  and  many  wagers  were 
laid  on  horses  and  ponies  backed  to  race  coaches  for 
certain  defined  distances.  The  York  mail  came  to  grief 
during  one  of  these  contests,  for  the  coachman  was  so 
determined  to  beat  the  horseman  in  question  that  he 
lost  all  sense  of  prudence  in  his  excitement  and  turned 
round  a  corner  so  sharply  that  the  coach  heeled  over. 
One  of  the  passengers  was  killed,  and  the  others  all 
seriously  injured. 

Such  races  were,  no  doubt,  abhorrent  to  travellers 
not  possessed  of  sporting  instincts,  but  there  were  some 
trials  of  speed  which,  by  their  novelty,  afforded  coach 
passengers  considerable  amusement  and  entertainment. 
A  miniature  four-in-hand,  which  raced  and  often  beat 
the  coaches  on  the  Great  North  Road,  belonged  to  a 
cripple  known  as  "Old  Lai,"  and  consisted  of  a  light 
cart  or  trolly  drawn  by  four  foxhounds.  A  cripple  boy 
at  East  Grinstead  with  his  unicorn  team  of  bulldogs 
frequently  competed  with  the  Brighton  coaches.  An 
even  more  original  turn-out  was  owned  by  a  farmer 
near  St.  Albans,  for  he  used  to  trot  briskly  along  the 
road  in  a  cart  drawn  by  four  large  hogs.  One  gentleman 
who  witnessed  the  uncommon  spectacle  was  so  struck 


COACHING  COMPETITION  99 

with  it  that  he  offered  ^50  for  the  turn-out,  but  the 
farmer  rejedfed  it  with  scorn. 

The  greatly  increased  rate  of  speed  at  which  the 
coaches  ran  during  the  golden  age  of  coaching,  naturally 
told  considerably  on  the  horses  employed.  Although 
the  stages  were  materially  shortened,  and  the  number  of 
horses  used  on  a  fast  coach  was  at  the  rate  of  one  for  every 
mile  of  the  distance,  it  was  not  often  that  the  period 
of  their  usefulness  exceeded  three  years.  This  did  not 
necessarily  mean  that  they  were  worn  out,  but  that  they 
were  no  longer  equal  to  the  pace  the  coach  was  timed  at, 
and  which  had  to  be  kept  accurately  year  in  and  year  out, 
irrespe6five  of  the  state  of  the  roads  and  weather.  The 
horseson  theslower  coacheslastedproportionatelylonger, 
for  it  was  the  pace  that  told  on  them;  one  coach  pro- 
prietor in  the  provinces  had  a  mare  who  went  a  hundred 
miles  a  week  in  his  coach  for  fourteen  years,  and  at  the 
end  of  that  time  was  still  considered  the  best  stager  on 
the  road. 

The  coach  horses  were  well  fed  and  cared  for,  and  the 
proprietors  vied  with  each  other  as  to  who  should 
possess  the  best  teams,  especially  those  used  for  the  first 
stage  out  of  London.  The  middle  ground  was  not  so  well 
horsed,  and  there  was  often  considerable  difficulty  to 
find  coachmen  willing  to  drive  over  those  stages,  where 
they  were  often  hard  put  to  it  to  keep  time  with  teams 
possessing  among  them  almost  every  vice  to  which  equine 
flesh  is  heir.  The  proverbial  "Three  blind  'uns  and  a 
bolter,"  was  by  no  means  a  mere  fallacy,  as  likewise  the 
coachman's  soothing  remark  that  "there  was  only  one 


100  THE   COACHING  ERA 

eye  between  them,"  hy  which  he  inferred  that  all  four 
horses  were  blind,  and  the  task  of  keeping  them  on  the 
road  depended  entirely  on  himself;  and  keeping  the 
road  on  a  dark  night  was  none  too  easy  at  any  time. 

The  value  of  a  picked  team  often  ran  into  three  figures, 
but  the  average  price  of  an  ordinary  coach  horse  was  £2^, 
and  horses  of  all  kinds,  sorts,  and  conditions  found  their 
way  into  the  coachyards,  without  much  reference  as 
to  their  adaptability  for  their  new  profession.  Anything 
that  could  hold  back  was  considered  satisfactory  for  a 
wheeler,  whilst  an  animal  that  would  keep  out  of  the  way 
of  the  bars  did  for  a  leader.  Possessing  either  of  these 
qualifications,  any  horse  could  be  made  to  run  in  a 
coach,  even  if  inclined  to  jib,  shy,  bolt,  or  otherwise 
misbehave  themselves.  The  new  arrivals  often  objedled 
strenuously  to  the  service  expedled  of  them,  and  showed 
their  disapproval,  to  the  no  little  alarm  of  the  passengers, 
who  watched  with  feelings  of  extreme  apprehension  the 
trial  of  wills  between  horse  and  driver.  Usually  the  man 
won,  for  the  old  coachmen  were  first-rate  whips,  and 
after  a  fierce  struggle  against  overwhelming  odds  the 
most  refra6lory  horse  eventually  settled  down  to  his 
work. 

There  was  one  horse,  however,  who  drove  coachmen 
and  contra£lors  innumerable  to  the  verge  of  despair. 
His  method  was  one  of  dignified  simplicity;  he  permitted 
himself  to  be  harnessed,  went  up  to  the  coach  like  a  lamb, 
and  then  when  the  rugs  were  pulled  off,  the  ostlers  stood 
away,  and  the  coachmen  gave  him  the  office  to  start,  he 
deliberately  lay  down.  Coachmen  swore,  guards  raved, 


COACHING    COMPETITION        loi 

ostlers  became  hysterical  with  rage,  onlookers  gave 
gratuitous  advice,  and  had  it  hurled  back  in  their  faces 
with  opprobrious  epithets.  The  only  unmoved  person  in 
the  general  pandemonium  was  the  chief  performer  who 
flatly  refused  to  move  for  anything  or  anybody  until  he 
was  unfastened  from  the  coach,  then  he  at  once  got  up 
and  returned  in  triumph  to  his  stable. 

This  horse's  eccentricity  was  so  well  known  that  once 
purchased  it  was  by  no  means  easy  to  dispose  of  him, 
and  he  travelled  about  from  one  part  of  the  country  to 
another.  He  got  into  Mr.  Costar's  stables  at  Oxford,  de- 
feated all  his  coachmen  and  was  ordered  to  be  sold.  His 
purchaser,  a  coachman  named  Cross,  bought  the  horse 
for  j^io,  and  as  he  was  perfedly  sound,  only  six  years  old, 
and  in  appearance  well  worth  ^^35,  he  felt  pretty  sure 
that  he  was  possessed  of  a  shady  past.  When  he  had  paid 
the  money  down  for  his  new  purchase,  he  was  speedily 
informed  that  as  a  coach  horse  he  was  useless  as  go  in 
harness  he  would  not. 

Cross  very  soon  found  out  that  report  spoke  only  too 
true,  for  when  the  horse  was  harnessed  he  instantly 
lay  down  in  the  Cornmarket  at  Oxford  and  refused  to 
move.  Cross  determined  he  would  get  the  better  of  him 
somehow  and,  in  pursuance  of  a  plan  he  had  formed,  he 
obtained  some  straw  and  strewed  it  round  the  horse.  If 
the  animal  imagined  this  was  a  delicate  attention  he  was 
soon  undeceived,  for  the  coachman's  next  adl  was  to 
set  light  to  the  straw.  The  horse  lay  till  he  was  singed, 
then  with  a  bound  he  got  to  his  feet,  leapt  over  the  burn- 
ing straw,  and  immediately  threw  himself  down  again. 


I02  THE   COACHING  ERA 

Cross,  determined  not  to  be  beaten,  took  his  re- 
fra£lory  charge  down  to  the  canal  and  had  him  harnessed 
behind  two  other  horses  who  were  towing  a  barge.  The 
new  pupil  immediately  threw  himself  down,  but  as  the 
other  horses  kept  steadily  on  he  was  unable  to  remain 
there,  and  in  his  struggles  to  retain  his  favourite  position 
he  eventually  rolled  off  the  towing-path  and  into  the 
water.  Finding  that  if  he  adhered  to  his  usual  plan 
of  lying  down  he  would  assuredly  be  drowned,  he 
scrambled  back  on  to  the  towing-path,  and  it  was  a 
surprised  and  bitterly  disillusioned  horse  who  walked 
sedately  behind  the  other  two,  and  did  his  fair  share  of 
the  work  for  a  couple  of  miles.  The  ordeal  by  fire  and 
water  made  a  reformed  charadler  of  him,  and  he  became  a 
coach  horse  of  most  exemplary  charadler,  to  the  intense 
astonishment  of  all  coachmen  and  stable-boys  who  had 
previously  been  honoured  with  his  acquaintance. 

Hunters  generally  worked  well  in  a  coach,  but  their 
ruling  passion  was  too  strong  to  be  denied,  and  the 
sound  of  a  huntsman's  horn  caused  them  to  break  out 
into  instant  rebellion.  A  leader  in  the  Dover  coach 
completely  lost  her  head  when  hounds  crossed  the  road 
in  front  of  her,  and  so  bitterly  did  she  feel  the  indignity 
of  her  position,  and  so  determined  was  she  to  follow  the 
hunt  at  all  costs,  that  she  instantly  set  to  work  to  kick 
herself  free  of  coach,  harness,  and  companions,  and  would 
undoubtedly  have  accomplished  her  obje6l  and  overset 
the  coach  if  the  guard  and  passengers  had  not  managed 
to  jump  down  and  release  her. 

In  1807  the  Liverpool  mail  was  changing  horses  at 


COACHING   COMPETITION         103 

an  inn  in  Cheshire,  when  Sir  Peter  Warburton's  hounds 
came  by  in  full  cry.  The  four  horses  which  had  just  been 
taken  out  of  the  coach  were  standing  unattended,  and 
with  one  consent  they  instantly  started  in  pursuit  of 
hounds,  their  harness  clattering  behind  them.  One  of 
them,  a  blood  mare,  took  the  first  whip  for  her  pilot, 
and  for  two  hours  followed  closely  in  his  wake  across 
country.  At  the  end  of  the  run,  the  enterprising  coach 
horses  were  recaptured,  seeming  none  the  worse  for  their 
adventure,  and  performed  their  stage  back  to  Congleton 
the  same  evening. 


CHAPTER  VII  COACH  PROPRIETORS 

THE  men  who  horsed  the  coaches  were  a  power 
in  the  land  in  days  gone  by;  especially  was  this 
so  in  London  where  the  coaching  contrafts 
were  held  by  a  few  men  who  owned  enormous 
stables,  and  amassed  huge  fortunes. 

Mr.  William  Chaplin,  eventually  M.P.  for  SaHsbury, 
was  the  largest  coach  proprietor.  His  chief  yard  was  at 
The  Swan  with  Two  Necks  in  Lad  Lane,  though  he  also 
owned  The  Spread  Eagle,  The  Cross  Keys,  and  The 
White  Horse  in  Fetter  Lane.  After  the  fashion  of  the 
time,  his  coaches  bore  the  symbol  of  the  inn  from  which 
they  started  on  their  hind  boot  or  door  panel,  and  were 
in  colour  red  and  black. 

Chaplin,  being  the  son  of  a  coach  proprietor,  in  a 
small  way  of  business,  knew  all  the  ins  and  outs  of  the 
road,  and  especially  dangers  and  temptations  which  beset 
the  coaching  fraternity — a  knowledge  which  proved  no 
inconsiderable  asset  for  a  coach  proprietor.  When  things 
went  wrong,  he  could  usually  make  a  shrewd  guess  at  the 
cause,  and  so  unerringly  did  he  put  his  finger  on  their 
weak  spots  that  his  coachmen  nicknamed  him  "Billy  bite 
'em  sly,"  which,  though  disrespedlful,  was  a  subtle  testi- 
mony to  his  proficiency. 

Chaplin  possessed  a  bland,  suave  temperament,  and 
a  gift  of  sarcasm  biting  and  defined;  a  talent  greatly 
resented  by  the  coachmen,  who  would  have  listened 
serenely  to  a  string  of  profanities,  but  writhed  uneasily 
under  Chaplin's  pointed  satire. 


104 


COACH   PROPRIETORS  105 

Ostlers  down  the  road  stole  the  oats  when  they 
could;  some  did  so  by  the  device  of  a  hole  cut  in  the 
manger  and  a  can  adroitly  arranged  to  catch  the  corn^'as 
it  fell;  others,  more  daring,  manipulated  the  lock^of Jthe 
corn-bin.  Could  anything  be  more  nerve-shattering 
than  the  following  experience  which  happened  to  one 
of  the  fraternity?  Going  to  the  stable  one  night,  as  was 
his  custom,  with  lantern  and  bag,  he  opened  the  lid  of 
the  corn-bin,  and  put  in  his  hand  to  take  out  the  oats. 
Instead,  he  was  confronted  with  the  horrid  spedtacle  of 
"Billy  bite  'em  sly"  curled  up  as  comfortable  as  possible, 
who  reared  himself  up  in  the  corn-bin  as  if  in  a  pulpit, 
and  gave  tongue  with  such  appalling  politeness  that  the 
ostler's  blood  fairly  froze  within  him. 

Chaplin  had  a  keen  sense  of  humour  which  was  not 
always  appreciated,  although  his  toast  at  the  annual 
coach  dinner  passed  into  an  historic  joke.  He  loyally 
proposed  the  health  of  the  Sovereign,  and  then  lifted  his 
glass  with  the  enigmatical  remark:  "Success  to  Shoulder- 
ing— but  do  it  well." 

The  first  occasion  on  which  he  proposed  this  novel 
toast  no  doubt  caused  the  assembled  coachmen  some 
uneasiness,  and  made  them  look  askance  at  one  another, 
wondering  where  "Billy  bite  'em  sly"  meant  to  have 
them.  Shouldering  was  an  old-established  custom,  but 
coach  proprietors  were  expefted  to  feign  ignorance  of  it. 
At  any  rate  it  was  a  subject  only  to  be  referred  to  between 
master  and  man,  under  most  distressing  circumstances, 
as  when  the  latter  had  "shouldered"  an  informer  un- 
awares, or  fallen  vidim  to  a  too  zealous  "pikeman." 


io6  THE   COACHING  ERA 

As  a  matter  of  fadl  the  coach  proprietors  were  per- 
fectly cognizant  of  the  fa6l  that  coachmen  and  guards 
were  in  the  habit  of  sharing  the  short  fares  between 
them,  and,  except  when  the  matter  was  carried  to 
exorbitant  lengths,  they  found  it  good  poHcy  to  ignore 
it,  so  that  ChapHn  meant  to  imply  that  his  coachmen 
might  shoulder  in  moderation,  but  were  not  to  do  it 
so  flagrantly  that  he  would  be  obliged  to  take  notice 
of  it. 

"What  have  you  got  in  the  boot,  guard?"  inquired  the 
proprietor  of  a  northern  coach  whose  suspicions  had  been 
aroused.  "Only  a  couple  of  guinea-pigs,  sir,"  replied  the 
guard,  climbing  up  into  his  place  as  the  coachman 
made  a  hasty  start.  "Stop!"  called  the  proprietor,  "I 
have  never  seen  a  guinea-pig."  He  opened  the  boot,  and 
beheld,  not  a  couple  of  small  rodents,  but  two  soldiers, 
ineffe6lually  trying  to  hide  themselves  under  the  straw. 
"Well,  they  are  two  beauties,"  said  the  proprietor. 
"Where  did  you  bring  them  from,  guard?"  The  em- 
barrassed guard  named  the  place,  and  the  proprietor 
entered  the  names  of  the  "guinea-pigs"  on  the  way-bill. 
The  guard  did  not  wish  to  see  them  there,  neither  did 
the  coachman,  for  they  had  intended  to  pocket  the  fares 
between  them. 

Chaplin  horsed  fourteen  of  the  mails  out  of  town,  and 
his  best  known  coaches  were  The  Liverpool  Red  Rover, 
The  Machester  Defiance,  and  the  famous  Tantivy  in 
praise  of  which  the  Hon.  R.  E.  Egerton-Warburton 
wrote  the  following  song: 


COACH   PROPRIETORS  107 

The  Tantivy  Trot 

Here's  to  the  old  ones,  of  four-in-hand  fame, 
Harrison,  Peyton,  and  Ward,  Sir; 
Here's  to  the  fast  ones  that  after  them  came, 
Ford  and  the  Lancashire  Lord,  Sir. 

Let  the  steam  pot 

Hiss  till  it's  hot. 
Give  me  the  speed  of  the  Tantivy  Trot. 

Here's  to  the  team.  Sir,  all  harnessed  to  start, 
Brilliant  in  Brummagen  leather; 
Here's  to  the  vi^aggoner  skilled  in  his  art, 
Coupling  the  cattle  together. 
Let  the  steam  pot,  etc. 

Here's  to  the  dear  little  damsels  within 
Here's  to  the  swell  on  the  top.  Sir; 
Here's  to  the  music  on  three  feet  of  tin, 
And  here's  to  the  tapering  crop.  Sir. 
Let  the  steam  pot,  etc. 

Here's  to  the  shape  that  is  shown  the  near  side, 
Here's  to  the  blood  on  the  off.  Sir, 
Limbs  with  no  check  to  their  freedom  of  stride! 
Wind  without  whistle  or  cough,  Sir. 
Let  the  steam  pot,  etc. 

Here's  to  the  arm  that  can  hold  'em  when  gone 
Still  to  a  gallop  inclined,  Sir; 
Heads  in  the  front  with  no  bearing  reins  on! 
Tails  with  no  cruppers  behind.  Sir. 
Let  the  steam  pot,  etc. 


io8  THE   COACHING   ERA 

Here's  to  the  dragsmen  I've  dragged  into  song, 
Salisbury,  Mountain  and  Co,,  Sir; 
Here's  to  the  Cracknell  who  cracks  them  along, 
Five  twenty-fives  at  a  go.  Sir. 
Let  the  steam  pot,  etc. 

Here's  to  Mac  Adam,  the  mac  of  all  macs, 
Here's  to  the  road  we  ne'er  tire  on; 
Let  me  but  roll  o'er  the  granite  he  cracks, 
Ride  ye  who  like  it  on  iron. 

Let  the  steam  pot 

Hiss  till  it's  hot. 
Give  me  the  speed  of  the  Tantivy  Trot. 

Chaplin  was  shrewd  and  far-seeing  and,  realizing  that 
the  railways  would  oust  the  coaches,  laid  his  plans 
accordingly.  He  saw  that  to  attempt  to  fight  the  rail- 
ways was  useless,  whilst  to  make  friends  with  them  in 
their  infancy  would  mean  much  profit  in  the  future. 
Eventually  he  sold  out  of  his  coaching  business  and  in- 
vested his  money  in  railway  stock,  which  brought  good 
return,  and  before  his  death  he  became  chairman  of  the 
London  and  South  Western  Railway. 

Benjamin  Worthy  Home  of  the  Golden  Crosswas  a  man 
of  very  different  temperament  to  Chaplin,  for  he  was 
nervous  and  irritable,  and  had  a  morbid  hatred  of  seeing 
anyone  doing  better  than  himself.  His  chief  hobby 
appears  to  have  been  opposition,  for  he  was  continually 
trying  to  run  some  coach  or  other  off  the  road,  and  with 
such  extreme  bitterness  did  he  enter  into  these  com- 
petitions that  he  would  go  to  any  lengths  to  ruin  rival 
proprietors.  Once  he  went  down  the  road  over  night  and 


COACH  PROPRIETORS  109 

brought  up  all  the  horses  at  a  certain  stage,  so  that  next 
day  the  rival  coach  was  brought  to  an  ignominious  stop 
there,  while  his  own  coach  raced  gaily  by,  shouting 
derision  after  the  manner  of  opposition  coaches. 

Edward  Sherman,  another  London  coach  proprietor, 
built  up  a  large  business  by  his  own  energy  and  per- 
severance, for  being  under  the  prevailing  impression 
that  London  streets  were  paved  with  gold  he  came  to 
town  on  foot,  and  thought  himself  lucky  to  earn  12s.  a 
week.  He  saved  his  money  and  invested  it  wisely,  but 
owed  his  success  to  another  species  of  speculation  no  less 
worldly-wise,  for  he  married  three  wealthy  old  ladies  in 
succession.  After  being  left  thrice  a  widower,  he  possessed 
a  substantial  fortune  and  rebuilt  the  Bull  and  Mouth  Inn. 
He  was  the  first  to  introduce  the  fast,  long  distance  day 
coaches,  of  which  the  most  famous  were  the  Shrewsbury 
Wonder,  and  the  Manchester  Telegraph,  which  did 
actually  accomplish  its  186  miles  in  one  day  by  starting 
from  London  at  five  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  reaching 
Manchester  at  eleven  at  night. 

Sherman  shut  his  eyes  resolutely  to  the  fafl  that  the 
railways  would  destroy  the  coaches.  Other  and  wiser 
proprietors  took  their  coaches  off  the  roads  as  the  rail- 
ways advanced  to  completion,  but  Sherman  fought  them 
stubbornly  and  lost  several  thousand  pounds  before  he 
gave  up  the  unequal  contest. 

Thomas  Fagg,  another  coach  proprietor  and  landlord 
of  the  Bell  and  Crown,  was  an  immense  admirer  of  the 
Duke  of  Wellington,  and  indeed  thought  of  changing  the 
name  of  his  hotel  to  ^he  Wellington.  He  confided  this 


no  THE   COACHING  ERA 

projedl  to  the  "Iron  Duke,"  who  squashed  it  instantly, 

and  told  Fagg  not  to  "be  a  d fool."  A  fool  Fagg  was 

not  by  any  means,  but,  like  many  worthy  men,  blinded 
by  hero-worship. 

His  choice  of  a  coachman  proves  that  he  was  possessed 
of  sound  common  sense.  To  him  came  a  swell  dragsman 
with  an  inflated  sense  of  his  own  importance.  Fagg  put 
the  usual  questions  as  to  qualifications,  and  ended  by 
asking  if  the  applicant  had  ever  had  an  accident  when 
driving  a  coach.  The  dragsman  felt  insulted  by  the  very 
suggestion.  No,  he  had  never  had  an  accident;  didn't 
know  what  the  word  meant.  If  he  thought  thus  to 
impress  Fagg  he  was  woefully  mistaken,  for  that  worthy 
instantly  told  him  to  go  about  his  own  business,  saying: 
"You're  no  good  to  me,  then,  my  coaches  are  always  being 
upset,  and  if  you've  never  had  a  accident  how  the  devil 
would  you  know  how  to  get  a  coach  on  her  legs  again?" 

Mrs.  Nelson  and  Mrs.  Mountain  were  two  redoubtable 
women  of  great  coaching  repute,  proprietresses  of  flour- 
ishing inns,  and  possessing  large  stables.  Mrs.  Nelson  was 
especially  solicitous  for  the  comfort  of  her  coachmen  and 
guards,  at  the  Bull  Inn  a  comfortable  room  was  set 
apart  for  their  use,  where  they  dined  on  the  best  the 
house  afforded.  In  this  san6tum  where  none  unconnected 
with  the  road  might  enter,  the  company  talked  "shop" 
whole-heartedly  and  without  reproach.  Coachmen  re- 
counted their  adventures  on  the  road,  and  addressed  one 
another,  not  by  personal  names,  but  after  the  manner  of 
the  peerage,  as  Oxford,  Salisbury,  Bristol,  York,  and  other 
towns  of  their  coaches'  destinations, 


COACH  PROPRIETORS  iii 

Of  the  many  large  coaching  establishments  in  the 
provinces  Costar's  and  Waddell's  of  Oxford  was  among 
the  best  known.  Old  Costar  was  a  noted  character  and, 
like  Fagg,  particular  as  to  his  coachmen,  for  when  John 
Stacey,  one  of  the  four  brothers  of  that  name,  applied 
to  him  for  a  place  Costar  looked  him  over  critically, 
remarking  to  a  friend  that  the  young  man  was  too  much 
of  a  dandy  for  him.  Jack  altered  his  attire  but  he 
was  never  employed  by  Costar,  although  his  brother, 
William,  for  some  time  drove  the  Alert  in  turn  with 
Black  Will. 

Costar  was  a  man  of  resource,  and  not  easy  to  get  the 
better  of.  One  year  when  farm  produce  was  scarce  and 
dear,  a  farmer  offered  the  coach  proprietor  a  hundred 
quarters  of  oats  for  three  hundred  guineas.  Costar  bid 
pounds,  but  the  farmer  thinking  he  would  be  unable  to 
buy  elsewhere  refused.  Costar  was  so  incensed  that 
he  at  once  ordered  out  his  favourite  black  mare  and 
drove  down  to  the  docks  at  Gloucester,  where  he  bought 
a  load  of  Irish  oats,  of  excellent  quality  and  at  half  the 
price.  The  farmer's  short-sighted  policy  lost  him  his 
best  customer,  for  Costar  never  bought  from  him  again. 

Like  Chaplin,  Costar  believed  in  personal  supervision, 
and  did  not  leave  his  business  in  the  hands  of  hirelings, 
but  when  things  went  wrong  he  looked  into  the  matter 
himself.  At  one  time  John  Bayzand,  of  the  Southampton 
Oxonian,  complained  that  the  team  from  the  Chequers 
Inn  at  Chilton  pond  seemed  to  have  no  life  in  them. 
The  horses  were  good  ones,  so  Costar  knew  there  must  be 
some  reason  for  their  being  out  of  condition,  and  he  at 


112  THE   COACHING  ERA 

once  inquired  if  the  oats  and  hay  supplied  were  of  fine 
quality.  The  coachman  replied  that  they  were,  first- 
rate  in  fa6l;  the  hay  came  from  a  reliable  farmer  at 
Dorchester,  and,  as  for  the  oats,  they  were  Mr.  Costar's 
own,  and  the  coach  carried  a  sack  from  Oxford  every  day. 

Clearly  the  food  suppHed  was  not  at  fault,  but  the 
horses  grew  weaker,  and  the  coachman's  complaints  more 
urgent,  so  that  Costar  determined  to  go  to  Chilton  pond 
himself.  Accordingly,  he  drove  up  to  the  Chequers  Inn 
one  morning  just  after  the  coach  had  changed.  He  went 
into  the  bar,  had  a  chat  with  the  landlord,  and  then 
strolled  casually  round  to  the  stables.  In  the  yard  he 
stumbled  on  the  solution  of  the  puzzle,  for  his  unfortu- 
nate horses,  still  smoking  from  their  journey,  and  with 
their  harness  on,  were  wallowing  in  a  dirty  pond.  The 
horse-keeper  who  should  have  attended  to  them  was 
busily  engaged  in  feeding  six  large  hogs,  and  feedingthem, 
moreover,  on  the  horses'  provender  just  brought  up  by 
the  coach.  Costar  restrained  his  temper  and  determined 
to  probe  such  iniquity  to  the  depths. 

"Good  morning,  young  man,"  he  remarked,  "your  pigs 
look  well.  They  seem  to  like  a  mixture  of  beans  and 
oats,  though  I  never  saw  pigs  fed  with  it  before." 

"Yes,  sir,"  replied  the  young  man.  "They  certainly 
thrive  on  it." 

He  then  drove  his  hogs  back  to  their  styes,  bedded 
them  comfortably  with  what  Mr.  Costar  shrewdly  sus- 
pedled  was  his  straw  and,  without  a  thought  of  the  un- 
fortunate coach  horses,  went  back  to  the  bar  for  a  drink. 
When  he  had  refreshed  himself  at  his  leisure,  he  came  out 


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COACH  PROPRIETORS  113 

again  and  catching  hold  of  the  horses  led  them  up  the 
yard. 

"Whose  horses  are  those?"  inquired  Mr.  Costar  mildly. 

"They  belong  to  old  Costar  of  Oxford,"  was  the  reply. 

"Oh,  they  do,  do  they!"  thought  "old  Costar,"  and 
followed  them  to  their  stables.  There,  to  his  chargin 
he  beheld  his  horses  put  into  dirty  stalls,  without  any 
vestige  of  bedding,  and  with  empty  mangers.  The  man 
then  considered  he  had  done  his  duty  to  "old  Costar's" 
horses,  for  he  left  them  without  any  pretence  of  rubbing 
them  down,  or  even  removing  their  harness. 

Mr.  Costar  drove  back  to  Oxford  and  straightway 
consulted  his  solicitor,  with  the  result  that  the  horse- 
keeper  in  Chequers  Inn  soon  found  himself  in  Reading 
Gaol  undergoing  a  sentence  of  twelve  months'  hard 
labour. 

In  1767  John  Alder,  a  cooper  of  Abingdon,  drew  a 
lottery  prize  of  twenty  thousand  pounds.  On  hearing 
the  news  he  "supported  himself  with  great  Decency," 
and  was  so  lavish  in  his  benefactions,  that  his  wife  said 
the  money  would  be  their  ruin  for  her  husband  would 
give  away  everything  they  had.  To  his  friend  Mr. 
Blewitt,  owner  of  the  "Abingdon  Machine,"  Alder  pre- 
sented a  new  coach.  The  delighted  proprietor  had  a 
pi6lure  painted  of  it,  with  himself  and  his  wife  on  the 
box-seat.  This  painting  now  hangs  on  the  staircase  of 
the  Council  Chamber  at  Abingdon. 


8 


CHAPTER  VIII  DOWN  THE  ROAD 

A  JOURNEY  by  coach  was  not  a  thing  to 
be  undertaken  lightly  or  unadvisedly,  but 
required  due  thought  and  deliberation  before 
paying  a  visit  to  the  booking-office,  and 
securing  a  seat  by  the  expedient  of  paying  half  the  fare 
in  advance.  When  the  intending  passenger  had  thus 
irretrievably  committed  himself,  he  returned  home  in 
deep  depression  at  the  thought  of  what  lay  before  him, 
and  evinced  an  hourly  increasing  solicitude  as  to  the 
state  of  the  weather.  Then,  as  now,  that  important 
factor  was  never  to  be  depended  upon,  whilst  its  in- 
fluence on  a  coach  journey  was  paramount;  if  it  was  fine 
few  things  were  more  delightful;  if,  on  the  contrary,  it 
elefted  to  rain  or  snow  nothing  could  equal  it  for  misery 
and  discomfort. 

The  traveller  who  booked  his  seat  in  advance  was 
usually  a  fatalist,  being  firmly  convinced  that  if  he  took 
a  place  inside  the  coach  the  sun  would  blaze  down  so 
that  the  four  insides  were  nearly  stifled  with  the  heat, 
whilst  if  he  engaged  a  seat  on  the  roof  he  was  equally 
certain  to  be  drenched  with  rain,  or  frozen  with  cold; 
unhappy  alternatives  which  gave  much  food  for  thought. 
The  question  of  inside  or  out  was  in  the  latter  coach- 
ing days  one  of  individual  seledlion;  earlier  travellers  did 
not  consider  there  was  any  choice  in  the  matter.  If  they 
had  the  smallest  respe6l  for  themselves  or  their  position 
in  society,  they  went  inside  as  a  matter  of  course.  The 

outside  passengers  who  balanced  themselves  uneasily  on 

114 


DOWN   THE   ROAD  115 

the  roof,  and  consumed  oranges,  shrimps,  and  other  forms 
of  sustenance  peculiar  to  the  constitution  of  outside 
passengers,  were  in  the  eyes  of  the  exclusive  "insides"  a 
species  of  pariah,  whose  very  existence  they  would  have 
denied  if  it  had  not  been  so  very  forcibly  demonstrated. 

Such  was  the  animosity  of  those  within  to  those  with- 
out, that  even  when  seats  were  added  to  the  roof,  and  in 
consequence  a  better  class  of  people  took  to  travelling 
thereon,  they  could  by  no  means  be  permitted  to  eat  their 
meals  in  the  same  room  as  the  exclusive  insides,  who 
would  have  suffered  a  severe  shock  at  the  mere  proposi- 
tion. So  also,  if  the  interior  of  a  coach  was  only  partially 
filled  and  a  drowned  or  frozen  outsider  besought  per- 
mission to  come  within,  his  admittance  rested  with  the 
"insides."  If  one  of  them  with  some  stirrings  of  humanity 
gave  his  consent,  the  "outsider"  was  placed  next  to  him, 
and  for  the  remainder  of  the  journey  he  was  looked  upon 
as  self-appointed  keeper  of  an  uncivilized  being,  for  whose 
good  behaviour  he  was  considered  responsible. 

To  the  schoolboys  is  due  the  credit  of  breaking  down 
this  social  barrier,  for  chiefly  because  it  was  forbidden, 
and  therefore  doubly  desirable,  they  discovered  that  the 
outside  of  a  coach  was  a  far  superior  place  to  the  inside. 
Careful  parents  and  masters  booked  places  in  the  interior, 
and  bade  their  charges  good-bye,  with  many  admoni- 
tions for  their  behaviour.  These  were  listened  to  duti- 
fully, and  forgotten  as  soon  as  the  coach  turned  the 
corner,  when  the  little  rogues  immediately  scrambled  on 
to  the  roof  of  the  coach. 

This  point  of  vantage  afforded  them  unqualified  joy, 


ii6  THE   COACHING   ERA 

and  possessed  so  many  advantages  that  one  feels  inclined 
to  pity  the  modern  schoolboys  who  travel  by  the  dull 
monotony  of  railways,  and  miss  what  must  have  con- 
stituted the  most  joyous  part  of  their  great-grandfathers' 
holidays.  The  schoolboys  evinced  an  intense  interest 
in  the  horses,  listened  with  becoming  reverence  (not 
accorded  to  their  pastors  and  masters)  to  the  words  of 
wisdom  which  were  to  be  culled  from  the  lips  of  that  all- 
important  man,  the  coachman,  scrambled  up  and  down 
at  the  changes,  and  chaffed  the  stable-boys  and  chamber- 
maids, who  laughed  at  their  precocity.  They  knew  not 
the  meaning  of  tedium,  for  they  thoughtfully  provided 
themselves  with  pop-guns,  peas,  and  other  missiles, 
for  the  confusion  and  undoing  of  all  other  users  of  the 
road.  When  all  else  failed  they  could  extraft  rapturous 
joy  by  throwing  pennies  through  shop  windows,  and 
shouting  "fire"  or  "murder"  at  the  top  of  their  voices. 

In  Tom  Brown's  School  Days,  the  guard  of  the  Tally-ho 
tells  how  the  Rugby  boys  behaved  going  to  and  fro  on 
the  coaches. 

"Werry  free  with  their  cash  is  the  young  gent'm'n. 
But,  Lor'  bless  you,  we  gets  into  such  rows  all  'long  the 
road,  what  wi'  their  pea-shooters,  and  long  whips,  and 
hollering,  and  upsetting  every  one  as  comes  by;  I'd  a 
sight  sooner  carry  one  or  two  on  'em,  sir,  as  I  may  be  a 
carryin'  of  you  now,  than  a  coach-load.  'What  do  they 
do  with  the  pea-shooters?'  inquires  Tom.  Do  wi'  'em! 
why,  peppers  every  one's  face  as  we  comes  near,  'cept 
the  young  gals,  and  breaks  windows  wi'  them  too,  some 
on  'em  shoots  so  hard.  Now  'twas  just  here  last  June, 
as  we  was  a   driving  up  the  first-day  boys,  they  was 


DOWN  THE   ROAD  117 

mendin'  a  quarter-mile  of  road,  and  there  was  a  lot  of 
Irish  chaps,  reg'lar  roughs,  a  breaking  stones.  As  we 
comes  up,  'Now,  boys,'  says  young  gent  on  the  box 
(smart  young  fellow  and  desper't  reckless)  'here's  fun! 
let  the  Pats  have  it  about  the  ears,'  'God's  sake,  sir!'  says 
Bob  (that's  my  mate  the  coachman),  'don't  go  for  to  shoot 
at  'em,  they'll  knock  us  off  the  coach.'  'Damme,  coachee,' 
says  young  my  lord,  'you  ain't  afraid;  hoora,  boys!  let  'em 
have  it.'  'Hoora!'  sings  out  the  others,  and  fill  their 
mouths  chock  full  of  peas  to  last  the  whole  line.  Bob, 
seeing  as  'twas  to  come,  knocks  his  hat  over  his  eyes,  hollers 
to  his  'osses,  and  shakes  'em  up,  and  away  we  goes  up  to 
the  line  of  'em,  twenty  miles  an  hour.  The  Pats  begins  to 
hoora  too,  thinking  it  was  a  runaway,  and  first  lot  on  'em 
stands  grinnin'  and  wavin'  their  old  hats  as  we  comes 
abreast  on  'em,  and  then  you'd  ha'  laughed  to  see  how 
took  aback  and  choking  savage  they  looked,  when  they 
gets  the  peas  a  stinging  all  over  'em.  But,  bless  you,  the 
laugh  weren't  all  of  our  side,  sir,  by  a  long  way.  We  was 
going  so  fast,  and  they  was  so  took  aback,  that  they 
didn't  take  what  was  up  till  we  was  half-way  up  the  line. 
Then  'twas,  'look  out  all,'  surely.  They  howls  all  down 
the  line  fit  to  frighten  you,  some  on  'em  runs  arter  us 
and  tries  to  clamber  up  behind,  only  we  hits  'em  over  the 
fingers  and  pulls  their  hands  off:  one  as  had  had  it  very 
sharp  ad'ly  runs  right  at  the  leaders,  as  though  he'd 
ketch  'em  by  the  heads,  only  luck'ly  for  him  he  misses  his 
tip,  and  comes  over  a  heap  o'  stones  first.  The  rest  pick  up 
stones,  and  gives  it  us  right  away  till  we  gets  out  of  shot, 
the  young  gents  holding  out  werry  manful  with  the  pea- 
shooters and  such  stones  as  lodged  on  us,  and  a  pretty 
many  there  was  too.  Then  Bob  picks  hisself  up  again, 
and  looks  at  young  gent  on  box  werry  solemn.  Bob'd 
had  a  rum  'un  in  the  ribs,  which'd  like  to  ha'  knocked  him 
off  the  box,  or  made  him  drop  the  reins.  Young  gent  on 


ii8  THE   COACHING   ERA 

box  picks  hisself  up,  and  so  does  we  all,  and  looks  round 
to  count  damage.  Bob's  head  cut  open  and  his  hat  gone, 
'nother  young  gent's  hat  gone;  mine  knocked  in  at  the 
side,  and  not  one  on  us  as  wasn't  black  and  blue  some- 
wheres  or  other,  most  on  'em  all  over.  Two  pound  ten 
to  pay  for  damage  to  paint,  which  they  subscribed  for 
there  and  then,  and  give  Bob  and  me  an  extra  half- 
sovereign  each;  but  I  wouldn't  go  down  that  line  again 
not  for  twenty  half-sovereigns." 

In  due  time  the  schoolboys  grew  up,  and  the  coachmen 
who  had  driven  them  to  Eton  or  Rugby  for  many  years, 
and  treated  them  with  extensive  patronage,  took  to 
touching  their  hats  and  calling  them  "Sir,"  when  with 
lordly  arrogance  they  once  more  travelled  by  coach,  not 
as  boys  any  longer,  but  men  of  one  of  the  Universities. 
Their  partiality  for  the  outside  still  remained,  though 
they  ceased  to  think  of  it  as  a  vantage  ground  for  pea- 
shooting. 

"The  air,  the  freedom  of  prospeft,  the  proximity  to 
the  horses,  the  elevation  of  seat — these  were  what  we 
required;  but,  above  all,  the  certain  anticipation  of  pur- 
chasing occasional  opportunities  of  driving,"  wrote 
De  Quincey  describing  the  struggle  between  inclination 
and  convention  which  exercised  the  feelings  of  "young 
Oxford,"  who,  though  detesting  the  inside  of  the  coach, 
yet  smarted  under  the  stigma  which  attached  to  all 
"outsiders."  "We,  the  most  aristocratic  of  people,  who 
were  addidled  to  the  pradlice  of  looking  down  supercili- 
ously even  upon  the  insides  themselves  as  often  very 
questionable  charafters — were  we,  by  voluntarily  going 
outside,  to  court  indignities?" 


DOWN   THE    ROAD  119 

The  very  idea  was  insupportable,  and  the  Oxonians 
settled  the  matter  hy  declaring  that  coach  travellers  had 
long  laboured  under  a  misapprehension  as  to  the  relative 
places  on  a  coach,  and  that  "the  roof  of  the  coach,  which 
hy  some  weak  men  had  been  called  the  attics,  and  hy 
some  the  garrets,  was  in  reality  the  drawing-room;  in 
which  drawing-room  the  box  was  the  chief  ottoman  or 
sofa;  whilst  it  appeared  that  the  inside,  which  had  been 
traditionally  regarded  as  the  only  room  tenable  by 
gentlemen,  was,  in  fadl,  the  coal-cellar  or  garrets  in 
disguise." 

Did  they  require  a  precedent  for  their  choice  they 
found  it  in  the  historic  example  of  the  Chinese  Emperor, 
who  received  a  coach  as  a  present  from  George  III,  a 
gift  which  stirred  his  pigtailed  subjects  to  the  depths. 
Anxious  to  create  a  sensation,  and  satisfy  the  curiosity 
of  his  people  the  Emperor  decided  to  make  a  state 
progress.  Horses  were  harnessed  to  the  coach,  and 
everything  was  ready,  when  a  difficulty  arose,  for  as  a 
coach  had  never  been  used  before  no  one  knew  the  exa6l 
place  which  the  Emperor  should  occupy.  The  matter 
was  settled  by  traditional  etiquette,  it  being  clearly 
proved  that  as  the  Emperor  was  far  too  exalted  a  per- 
sonage to  sit  behind  or  below  anybody,  much  less  his 
coachman,  evidently  the  box-seat  with  its  gorgeous 
hammer-cloth  was  the  place  expressly  designed  for  him. 
The  Emperor  mounted  the  box  with  immense  dignity, 
but  the  imperial  hands  with  their  preposterous  finger 
nails  could  not  touch  anything  so  menial  as  the  reins. 

The  coachman  then  desired  to  know  where  he  was  to 


120  THE   COACHING   ERA 

sit.  The  Court  officials,  scandalized  at  this  presumption 
of  a  low-born  one  daring  to  find  fault  with  the  Imperial 
coach,  bundled  him  inside  with  scant  ceremony,  gave 
him  the  reins  through  the  windows,  and  bade  him 
drive  without  more  ado.  The  immediate  result  did  not 
popularize  coaching  in  the  Celestial  Empire,  and  the 
Emperor  never  again  ventured  his  valuable  life  on  such 
an  unsteady  conveyance  as  the  coach  proved  itself  to  be. 

The  young  Oxonians  and  Cantabs  accomplished  their 
revolution,  and  in  time  so  completely  had  they  re- 
organized coaching  etiquette  that  the  outside  of  a 
coach  became  the  accredited  place  for  gentlemen,  and 
the  inside  was  left  to  the  possession  of  crusty  old 
bachelors  and  fidgety  old  maids,  who  dozed,  bumped 
against  each  other  with  every  jolt  and  became  very  short 
in  their  tempers.  We  have  it  on  the  authority  of  Charles 
Dickens  that,  "the  tendency  of  mankind,  when  it  falls 
asleep  in  coaches,  is  to  awake  up  cross,  to  find  its  legs  in 
the  way  and  its  corns  an  aggravation." 

If  a  passenger  complained  of  cramp,  and  expressed  a 
desire  to  stretch  his  legs,  he  invariably  brought  on  him- 
self the  acid  retort:  "I  pray,  sir,  you  will  do  nothing  of 
the  sort,  for  they  are  far  too  long  already."  And  a  lady 
timidly  inquiring,  "I  hope,  sir,  you  won't  be  offended  if 
my  head  should  happen  to  fall  on  your  shoulder  during 
the  night?"  received  the  reply,  "I  should  not  be  offended, 
madam,  but  I  should  take  steps  to  remove  it."  "Why, 
how  could  you  help  it,  sir?"  "How  could  I  help  it? 
Why,  I  always  keep  a  penknife  stuck  up  in  my  hand,  and 
if  people  choose  to  fall  upon  the  point  it's  not  my  fault." 


DOWN  THE   ROAD  121 

Not  the  least  inconvenience  attendant  on  coaches 
was  the  hours  at  which  they  started.  The  mails  left 
London  at  eight  o'clock  in  the  evening,  and  the  outside 
passengers  on  them  dozed  uncomfortably  through  the 
night,  and  were  in  imminent  danger  of  falling  off. 
Those  inside  were  little  better:  "The  gradual  decline  of 
talk,  the  incipient  snore,  the  rustling  and  shifting  of  legs 
and  night-caps,  the  cessation  of  other  noises  on  the  road, 
the  sound  of  the  wind  or  rain,  of  the  moist  circuit  of  the 
wheels,  and  of  the  time-beating  tread  of  the  horses — 
all  dispose  the  traveller  who  cannot  sleep,  to  a  double 
sense  of  the  little  that  is  left  him  to  observe.  The  coach 
stops,  the  door  opens,  a  rush  of  cold  air  announces  the 
demands  and  merits  of  the  guard,  who  is  taking  his  leave, 
and  is  anxious  to  remember  us.  The  door  is  clapped  to 
again;  the  sound  of  everything  outside  becomes  dim; 
and  voices  are  heard  knocking  up  the  people  of  the  inn, 
and  answered  by  issuing  yawns  and  excuses.  Wooden 
shoes  clog  heavily  about.  The  horses  are  heard  swilling 
the  water  out  of  tubs.  All  is  still  again,  and  some  one  in 
the  coach  takes  a  long  breath.  The  driver  mounts  and 
we  resume  our  way."  ^ 

Such  being  the  discomforts  of  night  travelling,  many 
people  preferred  to  go  by  the  fast  day  coaches.  These 
often  started  at  six  o'clock  in  the  morning,  which  neces- 
sitated the  traveller  either  sitting  up  all  night,  for  fear  of 
oversleeping,  or  trusting  to  the  doubtful  possibility  of  a 
servant  waking  him  in  time.  When  the  latter  alternative 
was  adhered  to,  and  the  domestic  thundered  persistently 
1  Leigh  Hunt  on  Coaching. 


122  THE   COACHING   ERA 

at  the  door  in  what  was  apparently  the  middle  of  the 
night,  his  master  waking  suddenly  from  a  deep  sleep 
grappled  with  him  under  the  delusion  that  here  was  a 
burglar,  or  jumped  out  of  bed  with  the  impression  that 
the  house  was  on  fire.  When  he  thoroughly  awoke  to  the 
fa6t  that  such  things  were  not,  he  groped  wildly  for  his 
tinder-box  and,  by  its  feebly  inefficient  aid,  at  length 
evolved  a  light.  This  successfully  accomplished,  he  was 
seized  with  the  convi6lion  that  he  would  miss  the  coach, 
and  hurried  into  his  clothes  with  feverish  haste,  seized 
his  bag,  rushed  downstairs  to  a  hackney-coach,  not  daring 
to  wait  for  breakfast  laid  uninvitingly  in  the  shuttered 
dining-room. 

Charles  Matthews,  realizing  that  at  five  o'clock  in  the 
morning  the  flesh  has  dominion  over  the  spirit,  impressed 
on  the  Boots  of  a  certain  inn  the  importance  of  waking 
him  thoroughly.  "If  you  see  me  still  inclined  to  sleep, 
don't  leave  the  room;  lift  me  out  of  the  bed  rather  than 
fail  to  rouse  me." 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  the  boots,  and  arrived  punctually  at 
five.  He  knocked  at  the  door,  receiving  no  response 
entered  the  room,  and  did  all  he  could  to  convince  his 
patron  of  the  urgency  of  getting  up  at  once.  All  to  no 
purpose;  Matthews  grunted  sleepily,  turned  over,  pulled 
the  clothes  round  his  neck,  and  buried  his  face  in  the 
pillow.  Persuasion  being  useless.  Boots  carried  out  his 
instru61:ions  literally,  picked  the  adlor  up  in  his  arms,  and 
disregarding  his  struggles  and  strong  language,  deposited 
him  on  the  floor,  where  he  held  him  till  he  had  his  solemn 
word  for  it  that  he  would  dress  forthwith. 


DOWN   THE    ROAD  123 

As  the  intending  passenger  drove  through  the  streets 
they  looked  dismal  and  deserted,  with  here  and  there  a 
dissipated  reveller,  returning  home  unsteadily  after  a 
"wet"  night.  At  the  inn  yard,  however,  all  was  bustle 
and  confusion;  porters  and  hangers-on  fought  for  the 
possession  of  his  bag,  whilst  all  "the  cries  of  London" 
seemed  to  be  assembled  for  the  express  purpose  of 
making  him  buy  oranges,  pencils,  brooms,  rat-traps, 
cucumbers,  lavender,  and  various  other  commodities,  all 
equally  inappropriate  as  preparation  for  a  long  coach 
ride. 

The  coaches  themselves  were  the  great  centre  of 
attraftion,  for  they  were  loading  up  with  all  speed  and 
expedition.  Luggage  was  piled  up  on  the  roof  as  high 
as  Acts  of  Parliament  permitted,  and  then  covered 
with  tarpaulin  and  secured  with  stout  straps.  Smaller 
articles  innumerable  were  crammed  into  the  boot,  till 
even  the  guard  was  bound  to  admit  that  it  could  hold  no 
more.  Not  to  be  outdone  he  tied  bandboxes,  game, 
baskets  of  fish,  and  other  light  articles  on  to  the  hind 
axle-tree,  lamp  irons,  and  all  other  available  parts  of 
the  coach. 

The  inevitable  old  lady  would  be  heard  fussing  about 
her  luggage,  being  firmly  of  the  impression  that  the 
guard  meant  to  defraud  her  of  it: 

"Now,  ma'am,  make  haste,  put  your  best  leg  foremost, 
or  you'll  be  just  in  time  to  be  too  late."  "Wait  a  minute, 
coachman,  till  I  just  see  that  my  luggage  is  all  right: 
have  you  got  the  blue  bandbox,  Betty?"  "Yes,  ma'am." 
"Where's  the  large  corded  trunk?"  "John's  bringing 


124  THE   COACHING  ERA 

that,  ma'am."  "And  my  two  caps?"  "They  are  in  a 
sheet  of  brown  paper,  ma'am."  "Mind  you  don't 
scrunch  that."  "I  can  put  it  in  the  lining  of  the  coach, 
they'll  be  safe  enough  there."  "Put  the  sandwiches  and 
the  bottle  of  ratifia  water  into  the  coach  pocket,  I  may 
want  them.  Coachman,  be  sure  you  don't  put  anything 
on  the  top  of  that  bandbox,  or  it  will  be  squeezed  into  a 
jelly,  my  best  Leghorn  bonnet  is  in  it.  Now,  have  you 
got  all  my  luggage?  Well,  just  run  over  it,  one  bandbox, 
one;  in  the  boot,  all  right;  one  corded  trunk,  two;  on  the 
top,  all  right;  one  pair  of  pattens,  three;  inside,  all  right; 
one  umbrella,  four;  inside,  all  right;  one  carpet-bag, 
five;  in  the  boot,  all  right;  and  one  redicule  in  my 
hand,  six;  all  right,  that  will  do." 

Hackney-carriages  hastened  up  and  deposited  sleepy 
occupants,  who  regarded  everything  with  a  jaundiced 
eye,  for  it  required  an  exceptionally  optimistic  tempera- 
ment to  be  cheerful  at  six  o'clock  on  a  dull  morning,  with 
a  place  booked  on  the  outside,  and  a  journey  of  two  or 
three  hundred  miles  ahead. 

As  the  clock  hand  approached  the  hour,  travellers 
buttoned  up  their  large  and  varied  assortment  of  wraps 
and  coats,  drew  their  shawls  firmly  over  their  ears  and 
took  their  seats.  The  coachman  came  out  of  his  office 
with  his  Way-bill,  ran  his  eye  over  the  team  to  see  that 
all  was  as  it  should  be,  took  up  the  reins  and  mounted  the 
box. 

"Right!"  called  the  guard. 

"Give  'em  their  heads.  Bill,"  said  the  coachman. 

The  ostlers  drew  off  the  cloths,  the  horses  leapt  into 
their  collars,  and  away  went  the  coach,  rattling  over  the 


DOWN   THE   ROAD  125 

stones  to  the  cheerful  accompaniment  of  the  guard's 
horn. 

If  the  weather  decided  to  smile  on  them,  the  outside 
passengers  saw  the  sun  rise,  iris-tinted,  through  the  grey 
dawn,  watched  the  white  mists  roll  away  over  the  fields, 
and  heard  the  choir  of  birds  salute  the  coming  of  another 
day.  If,  on  the  contrary,  the  elements  were  adverse, 
they  saw  and  heeded  none  of  these  things,  but  rammed 
their  hats  down  over  their  ears,  buried  their  noses  in  their 
shawls,  and  thought  yearningly  of  home  and  creature 
comforts. 

As  the  end  of  the  first  stage  drew  near,  the  guard 
sounded  his  horn  with  the  twofold  purpose  of  warning 
the  ostler  to  get  the  fresh  team  out,  and  the  barmaid  to 
have  ready  those  beverages  which  all  travellers  loved. 
When  they  had  drunk  a  glass  of  rum  and  milk,  brandied 
coffee,  home-brewed  ale,  or  whatever  their  fancy  and 
the  state  of  the  weather  dictated,  the  passengers  began 
to  take  a  more  cheerful  view  of  life. 

Dinner  soon  became  the  loadstar  of  their  existence, 
for  the  majority  of  passengers  travelled  from  necessity 
not  choice.  They  cared  little  for  scenery  and  less  for 
horses,  and  the  only  really  enjoyable  part  of  a  coach  drive 
was  the  appetite  it  gave  them  for  meals.  At  no  other 
time  could  they  boast  of  such  genuine  hunger,  but,  alas, 
at  no  other  time  were  they  constrained  to  dine  so 
hurriedly!  Twenty  minutes  or  half  an  hour,  the  time 
appointed,  was  in  the  eyes  of  travellers  hopelessly  in- 
adequate. In  summer,  when  they  rushed  from  the 
coach  into  the  dining-room,  and  fell  to  with  all  possible 


126  THE   COACHING  ERA 

despatch,  it  was  not  sufficient;  but,  in  winter,  several 
precious  minutes  had  to  be  wasted  taking  off  sodden 
coats  or  thawing  fingers  so  numb  that  they  refused  to 
hold  knives  and  forks,  and  etiquette  forbade  even  "out- 
siders" to  use  their  fingers. 

The  dinners  provided  at  the  different  inns  varied  in 
quality,  but  were,  as  a  rule,  good,  and  the  tables  were 
spread  with  a  profusion  of  dainties  calculated  to  make  a 
hungry  man's  mouth  water.  Waiters  rushed  frantically 
about  carrying  hot  dishes  and  hot  drinks,  whilst  travellers 
with  their  mouths  full,  and  their  eyes  on  the  clock, 
cursed  them  freely  for  being  so  slow.  If  the  soup  was 
hot,  and  some  innkeepers  were  darkly  suspefted  of 
making  it  so  on  purpose,  the  passengers  burnt  their 
mouths  trying  to  swallow  it,  being  in  deadly  fear  they 
would  not  have  time  to  get  to  the  meat  course. 

Alas,  long  before  they  had  tasted  half  the  good  things, 
the  guard  would  appear  with  the  hated  announcement : 
"Coach  is  ready,  ladies  and  gentlemen."  Passengers, 
grumbling  darkly  but  aware  of  their  own  impotence,  and 
the  knowledge  that  if  they  were  not  in  their  places  when 
the  coach  started  they  would  most  assuredly  be  left 
behind,  sought  desperately  in  their  pockets  for  half- 
crowns  and  sixpences  to  appease  the  waiters;  hurried 
into  their  greatcoats,  and  remounted  the  coach  with 
their  hunger  only  half  appeased. 

Here  is  a  contemporary  account  of  a  coach  dinner: 

"Stay  dinner  here,  sir — fifteen  minutes  allowed — two 
of  them  gone  already — Dinner's  on  the  table,  here's  the 
beef,  sir." 


"1 


DOWN  THE   ROAD  127 

"Yes,  but  where's  the  plate?" 
'Fetch  yon  one  directly — here's  the  plate." 
"A  plate — oh!  but  where's  a  knife  and  fork?" 
"You  shall  have  one  direftly,  sir.  Now,  sir,  there  your 

are,  all  right." 

"Well  then,  nowthank  Heaven  I  can  get  a  bit  of  peace." 
"Time  up,  sir.  Coach  is  just  ready  to  start." 
"Ah!  but  I  shan't  be  ready  to  start  for  this  half-hour." 
"Can't  wait,  you  ought  to  have  done  before  this!" 
"Done?  Zounds!  I've  not  begun — I  wish  you  would 

let  me  enjoy  my  mutton,  without  giving  me  so  much  of 

your  sauce  with  it." 

"Three-and-sixpence  a  head,  sir — trouble  you  for  the 

money." 

"Three-and-sixpence!  Why,   I   have   scarcely  had   a 

bite." 

"No  fault  of  ours,  sir — it  was  there  for  you." 

"A  bite!  By  the  powers,  it's  a  bite  altogether!" 

Supper  had  to  be  consumed  with  equal  celerity,  and  a 
scene  typical  of  such  occasions  is  thus  described  by 
Charles  Matthews. 

"The  drowsy,  reeling,  unwilling  passengers  now 
alighted  to  take  their  supper  in  the  town  of  Ware,  and  I 
question  if  ever  a  Flemish  Tarboldolt  or  a  Congress  at 
Rhastadt,  displayed  such  a  miscellaneous  assemblage  as 
the  room  into  which  we  were  shown.  Here  were  pas- 
sengers from  three  different  coaches,  in  the  same  room, 
stopped  for  the  same  purpose.  In  one  corner  of  the  room 
was  a  Miss,  who  declared  it  was  the  werry  height  of 
wulgarity  to  eat  suppers.  In  another  was  an  elderly  lady 
and  a  little  boy,  who  were  regaling  themselves  with 
biscuits  and  brandy  and  water,  and  an  old  man,  with  a 
large  hat,  tied  under  his  chin  with  a  blue  and  white 


128  THE   COACHING   ERA 

pocket  handkerchief.  The  guard  of  one  of  the  coaches 
came  in  to  announce  the  expiration  of  time.  Oh,  for 
the  pen  of  Fielding  or  the  pencil  of  Hogarth  to  describe 
the  scene  that  ensued!  (Horn)  "Come,  ladies  and 
gentlemen,  we're  all  ready — All  ready,  sir.  What  do  you 
mean  by  all  ready  (pulHng  out  his  watch).  We  haven't 
been  here  ten  minutes — Where's  the  bill? — Vat,  four 
shilHngs  for  that  ere  Httle  bit  of  weel,  and  that  'Foxhall' 
slice  of  ham?— I  never  see'd  such  an  imposition  in  all  my 
life:  you  treat  people  in  stage-coaches  more  like  convicts 
than  gentlefolks.  If  ever  I  come  by  this  here  coach  again, 
I'll  bring  my  supper  with  me  in  my  pocket — that's  what 
I'll  do. — Waiter,  where's  my  cane  I  laid  in  the  chair? — 
Talking  of  canes,  where's  my  snuff-box  I  laid  down  on 
the  table? — And  waiter,  where's  the  fishing-rod  I  put  in 
that  window?" 

"Every  man  for  himself,  and  the  devil  take  the  hinder- 
most,"  was  the  maxim  at  a  coach  meal;  manners  were  at 
a  premium,  it  being  generally  conceded  that  there  was 
no  time  to  waste  on  civilities.  George  Field,  desirous  of 
paying  Constable  the  highest  tribute  in  his  power,  and 
to  instance  the  artist's  innate  good  breeding,  did  so  by 
saying,  "He  was  a  gentleman  in  a  stage-coach,  nay,  more, 
a  gentleman  at  a  stage-coach  dinner." 

Inexperienced  travellers  left  the  table  more  hungry 
than  when  they  sat  down;  old  hands  learnt  to  dine  "in 
the  cracking  of  a  whip"  according  to  Leigh  Hunt. 
"They  stick  with  their  fork,  they  joint,  they  sliver,  they 
bolt.  Legs  and  wings  vanish  before  them  like  a  dragon 
before  a  knight-errant.  But  if  one  is  not  a  clergyman  or  a 
regular  jolly  fellow,  one  has  no  chance  this  way.  To  be 
diffident  or  polite  is  fatal.  It  is  a  merit  eagerly  acknow- 


DOWN  THE   ROAD  129 

ledged,  and  as  quickly  set  aside.  At  last  you  begin  upon  a 
leg,  and  are  called  off." 

Two  sailors  travelling  on  the  far-famed  Tantivy  from 
Birmingham  to  London,  found  the  twenty  minutes 
allowed  for  dinner  at  the  Star  Hotel  in  Oxford  all  too 
brief,  but  as  they  had  paid  for  it  they  determined  to  have 
it  at  all  costs.  When  the  guard  blew  his  horn  to  announce 
that  the  coach  was  on  the  point  of  starting,  one  of  them 
seized  a  loaf  of  bread,  the  other  a  fowl,  and  bolted  for 
the  coach,  closely  pursued  by  the  outraged  waiter  who 
indignantly  demanded  what  they  were  going  to  do  with 
the  food. 

"Eat  'em,  mate,"  they  replied  with  promptitude. 

"But  you  are  not  allowed  to  take  things  off  the  table," 
protested  the  waiter.  "Eat  all  you  like  but  pocket  none." 

"Well  then,  you  should  give  us  time  to  do  it  in,"  said 
the  sailors  not  one  whit  ashamed.  "We  have  paid  for  our 
dinner  and  now  we've  got  it,  we  mean  to  eat  it."  And 
eat  it  they  did  with  great  enjoyment  as  the  coach  drove 
through  Oxford. 

Innkeepers  made  a  good  thing  of  those  unfinished 
coach  dinners,  for  which,  moreover,  they  often  charged 
unduly  high  prices;  as  witness  the  apt  rhyme  that  ran 

thus: 

"  The  famous  Inn  at  Speedhamland 
That  stands  below  the  hill, 
May  well  be  called  the  Pelican  ' 
From  its  enormous  bill." 

Hard,  indeed,  was  the  lot  of  those  travellers  whose 
purses  were  poorly  lined,  as  the  passengers  on  the  Paul 
9 


130  THE   COACHING  ERA 

Pry  found  to  their  cost.  The  coach  officially  dines  at  the 
Star  Hotel,  Oxford,  but  it  was  the  custom  for  those 
who  could  not  afford  the  high  prices  to  resort  to  the 
Bell,  a  cheaper  place  of  entertainment.  One  night  six 
Welshmen  entered  that  house,  warmed  themselves  before 
the  fire,  and  frugally  had  one  sixpenny  tea  between  the 
six  of  them.  This  roused  the  exceeding  wrath  of  Mrs. 
Charlton,  the  landlady,  and  she  complained  very  bitterly 
to  Bayzand,  who,  shocked  at  such  parsimony,  promised 
it  should  not  occur  again,  for  that  he  personally  would 
take  steps  to  prevent  it. 

The  following  day  eight  Welsh  passengers  on  the  Paul 
Pry  came  to  the  Bell  and  pursuant  to  Bayzand's  in- 
strudfions  were  shown  into  a  room  with  a  good  fire,  and 
eight  sixpenny  teas  ready  on  the  table.  The  door  was 
then  unostentatiously  locked.  Time  passed  quickly,  and 
presently  the  guard  blew  his  horn  to  announce  that  the 
coach  was  ready  to  start.  The  Welshmen  seized  their 
hats  and  coats,  and  rushed  to  the  door,  which  to  their 
consternation  they  found  closed. 

"Open  the  door!"  they  cried,  hammering  on  it. 

The  guard  blew  another  imperative  blast  on  his  horn 
which  threw  the  Welshmen  into  a  frenzy. 

"Open  the  door,  open  the  door!"  they  shouted. 

"It  shall  be  opened  when  you  have  paid  4s.  for  your 
tea,"  said  Bayzand  from  the  other  side. 

The  Welshmen  tried  to  compromise  by  offering  one 
and  six,  protesting  that  only  three  of  them,  had  had  tea. 
That,  however,  was  regarded  as  no  excuse  whatever: 
tea  for  eight  had  been  provided,  and  if  they  had  not 


DOWN  THE   ROAD  131 

eaten  it  that  was  their  own  look-out;  it  was  there  and 
they  must  pay  for  it.  At  last,  fearing  the  coach  would 
leave  them  behind,  the  Welshmen  paid  for  the  teas  they 
had  not  eaten,  and  were  released. 

Miss  Mitford,  in  Our  Village,  has  left  a  vivid  pen 
picture  of  the  discomforts  to  which  coach  travellers 
were  subje6l  in  times  of  extreme  heat,  or  intense  cold. 

"I  shall  never  forget  the  plight  in  which  we  met  the 
coach  one  evening  in  last  August,  full  an  hour  after  its 
time,  steeds  and  driver,  carriage  and  passengers,  all  one 
dust.  The  outsides,  and  the  horses,  and  the  coachman, 
all  seemed  reduced  to  a  torpid  quietness,  the  resignation 
of  despair.  They  had  left  off  trying  to  better  their 
condition,  and  taken  refuge  in  a  wise  and  patient  hope- 
lessness, bent  to  endure  in  silence  the  extremity  of  ill. 
The  six  insides,  on  the  contrary,  were  still  fighting 
against  their  fate,  vainly  struggling  to  ameliorate  their 
hapless  destiny.  They  were  visibly  grumbling  at  the 
weather,  scolding  at  the  dust,  and  heating  themselves 
like  a  furnace,  by  striving  against  the  heat.  How  well  I 
remember  the  fat  gentleman  without  his  coat,  who  was 
wiping  his  forehead,  heaving  up  his  wig,  and  certainly 
uttering  that  English  ejaculation,  which,  to  our  national 
reproach,  is  the  phrase  of  our  language  best  known  on  the 
continent.  And  that  poor  boy,  red-hot,  all  in  a  flame, 
whose  mamma,  having  divested  her  own  person  of  all 
superfluous  apparel,  was  trying  to  relieve  his  sufferings 
by  the  removal  of  his  neckerchief — an  operation  which 
he  resisted  with  all  his  might.  How  perfeftly  I  remember 
him,  as  well  as  the  pale  girl  who  sat  opposite,  fanning 
herself  with  her  bonnet  into  an  absolute  fever!  They 
vanished  after  a  while  in  their  own  dust;  but  I  have 
them  all  before  my  eyes  at  this  moment,  a  companion 


132  THE   COACHING   ERA 

pidlure  to  Hogarth's  'Afternoon,'  a  standing  lesson  to 
the  grumblers  at  cold  summers." 

On  a  cold  winter's  day  Miss  Mitford  met  the  coach 
again  and,  though  greatly  changed,  the  situation  of  the 
passenger  was  scarcely  improved:  "How  much  happier 
the  walkers  look  than  the  riders — especially  the  frost- 
bitten gentleman,  and  the  shivering  lady  with  the 
invisible  face,  sole  passengers  of  that  commodious 
machine!  Hooded,  veiled  and  bonneted,  as  she  is,  one 
sees  from  her  attitude  how  miserable  she  would  look 
uncovered." 

Fellow  suffering  engendered  intimacy  and,  owing  to 
the  close  contact  necessitated  by  the  cramped  space 
assigned  to  them,  it  was  impossible  for  coach  travellers 
to  observe  that  icy  demeanour,  the  haughty  indifference 
which  seem  inseparable  from  strangers  in  a  railway 
carriage. 

People  of  all  classes  and  dispositions  found  themselves 
together  in  a  coach,  even  the  fiery  and  the  fat  learnt  to 
bear  with  each  other;  though,  to  be  sure,  fatness  was  a 
thing  hard  to  forgive.  One  can  sympathize  with  the 
stout  gentleman,  who,  anxious  to  ensure  comfort  both 
for  himself  and  those  who  travelled  with  him,  sent  to 
secure  two  seats,  but,  on  arriving  at  the  coachyard,  found, 
to  his  chagrin,  that  one  was  booked  outside  and  the 
other  in. 

The  four  inside  and  twelve  outside  passengers  were 
together  for  better  or  worse,  and  entirely  under  the 
authority  of  the  coachman  and  guard,  which  gave  them 
a  sense  of  comradeship,  so  that  when  their  first  restraint 


f        -v. 

<  I 


DOWN  THE   ROAD  133 

had  worn  o£F  they  entered  naturally  into  conversation. 
This  hail-fellow  well-met  spirit  was  not  always  approved 
of;  the  great  Duke  of  Wellington  considered  that  one  of 
the  greatest  drawbacks  to  coaching  was  the  nonsense 
a  traveller  was  constrained  to  listen  to;  whilst  Felix 
Mendelssohn,  when  on  a  coach  journey  in  1829,  wrote  to 
his  family  that  English  conversation  consisted  of  "walk- 
ing, coals,  supper,  weather  and  Buonaparte." 

Congenial  companionship  made  all  the  difference 
to  the  pleasure  of  the  ride,  and  the  passengers  usually 
assorted  themselves  accordingly;  sporting  folk,  whose 
chief  interest  lay  in  the  horses,  gravitated  naturally  to 
the  front  of  the  coach,  where  they  could  talk  "horse," 
and  enjoy  coaching  to  an  extent  not  imaginable  to  the 
folk  behind  who  did  not  know  an  off  wheeler  from  a 
near  leader. 

Some  friendships  begun  on  a  coach  lasted  through 
life,  others  were  less  fortunate.  A  farmer's  daughter, 
travelling  from  Manchester  to  Margate,  lent  a  too  willing 
ear  to  the  blandishments  of  a  fellow  traveller.  Believing 
him  prostrate  with  her  charms,  she  smiled  sweetly  upon 
him,  and  when  they  arrived  in  London  asked  him  to 
look  after  her  luggage.  He  consented  with  alacrity, 
bidding  her  wait  for  him  in  the  coffee-room.  The 
young  lady  waited  a  long  time  and  at  length  went  in 
search  of  her  newly  made  friend,  but,  alas,  he  had 
departed,  and  with  him  her  luggage,  so  the  disillusioned 
young  lady  was  obliged  to  give  up  all  thoughts  of  Mar- 
gate and  take  the  next  coach  home. 

Still  more  tragic  was  the  state  of  the  elderly  ladies 


134  THE   COACHING  ERA 

who  came  up  in  the  Dover  stage  in  company  with  a 
gentleman  of  most  pleasing  manners.  So  entirely  did  he 
manage  to  ingratiate  himself  with  them  that  they  invited 
him  to  come  back  to  their  house  at  Blackheath,  and 
take  some  refreshment  before  proceeding  to  Woolwich, 
where  he  said  he  was  going  to  join  his  regiment.  The 
stranger  accepted  willingly,  and  the  newly  made  friends 
passed  a  pleasant  evening,  playing  whist  far  into  the 
night.  Whether  or  no  the  stakes  were  high  and  the  ladies 
lost  does  not  appear,  but  when  at  length  the  visitor  got 
up  to  take  his  leave  he  gracefully  apologized  for  having 
kept  them  up  so  late,  adding  that  he  must  trouble  them 
to  hand  over  all  the  money  and  portable  valuables  they 
happened  to  have  in  the  house.  At  first  the  ladies 
laughed,  thinking  it  a  joke,  but  they  very  soon  found 
out  it  was  far  from  being  a  laughing  matter.  The 
stranger  saw  his  request  carried  out  to  the  very  letter 
before  he  departed  with  profuse  thanks  for  their  hos- 
pitality, which  he  said  Mr.  Richard  Turpin  would  always 
remember. 

Sometimes  the  coaches  carried  queer  customers,  and 
Maria  Edgeworth  in  one  of  her  letters  gives  an  amusing 
account  of  Lord  Longford's  experiences.  Getting  into  a 
coach  one  night,  he  dozed  comfortably  till  morning, 
when  to  his  consternation  he  discovered  that  the  other 
occupant,  he  had  supposed  a  gentleman  in  a  fur  coat, 
was  in  fadl  a  live  bear.  Another  time  he  fancied  himself 
in  company  with  a  gouty  gentleman  of  great  importance 
from  the  extreme  deference  and  solicitude  of  the  man 
who  accompanied  him,  but  when  the  "gouty"  traveller 


DOWN   THE   ROAD  135 

dismounted  it  was  seen  that  his  rugs  covered  fetters,  and 
he  was  a  malefactor  in  irons  accompanied  by  a  Bow 
Street  Officer. 

Prisoners  were  frequently  conveyed  from  place  to 
place  in  coaches,  and  one  of  the  entries  in  John  Wesley's 
diary  runs:  "Then  I  took  coach  for  London,  I  was  nobly 
attended;  behind  the  coach  were  ten  convi6led  felons, 
loudly  blaspheming  and  rattling  their  chains;  by  my  side 
sat  a  man  with  a  loaded  blunderbuss  and  another  upon 
the  coach." 

Other  passengers  were  more  fortunate,  and  the 
delightful  and  inquisitive  Mr.  Samuel  Pepys  when  he 
returned  from  Cambridge  on  May  26th,  1667,  had  an 
adventure  after  his  own  heart. 

"Up  by  four  o'clock;  and  by  the  time  we  were  ready 
and  had  eat,  we  were  called  to  the  coach,  where  about 
six  o'clock  we  set  out,  there  being  a  man  and  two 
women  of  one  company,  ordinary  company  and  one 
lady  alone,  that  is  tolerably  handsome,  and  mighty  well 
spoken,  whom  I  took  great  pleasure  in  talking  to,  and 
did  get  her  to  read  aloud  in  a  book  she  was  reading  in  the 
coach,  being  the  King's  meditations;  and  then  the  boy 
and  I  to  sing,  and  about  noon  come  to  Bishop's  Stortford, 
to  another  house  than  that  we  were  at  the  other  day 
and  better  used.  And  here  I  paid  for  the  reckoning  lis., 
we  dining  together,  and  pretty  merry;  and  then  set  out 
again,  sleeping  most  part  of  the  way,  and  got  to  Bishops- 
gate  street  before  eight  o'clock,  the  waters  being  now 
most  of  them  down,  and  we  avoiding  the  bad  way  in  the 
forest  by  a  privy  way  which  brought  us  to  Hodsden." 

Pepys  considered  his  flirtation  with  the  lady  very 


136  THE   COACHING   ERA 

right  and  proper,  but  it  was  quite  another  state  of 
things  when  his  wife  made  friends  with  a  gentleman  on 
the  coach,  and  invited  him  to  come  to  supper.  Pepys 
worked  himself  up  into  a  great  state  of  mind  about  it, 
and  considered  her  conduct  most  reprehensible,  but  he 
need  not  have  distressed  himself,  for  the  stranger  did  not 
come  to  the  feast  Elizabeth  Pepys  prepared  for  him, 
and  thereby  passed  into  obscurity  instead  of  being  im- 
mortalized in  the  pages  of  the  famous  diary. 

Dr.  Johnson's  conversation  showed  to  great  advantage 
in  the  Oxford  coach  on  June  3rd,  1764.  His  companions 
inside  were  the  faithful  Boswell  and  two  American 
ladies  who  had  seen  the  names  on  the  Way-bill  and 
were  ecstatic  at  the  prospedl  of  travelling  with  such  a 
celebrity.  The  elder  could  scarcely  believe  her  good 
fortune,  for  she  leant  across  to  Boswell  and  inquired  in  a 
whisper:  "Is  this  the  great  Dr.  Johnson?" 

Boswell,  much  gratified,  replied  that  it  was.  The  lady, 
encouraged,  imparted  the  news  that  her  husband  had 
been  a  member  of  the  American  Congress.  This  gave 
Boswell  considerable  alarm,  for  Dr.  Johnson  was 
accustomed  to  state  his  views  with  complete  disregard 
of  his  listeners'  feelings,  and  he  had  on  a  previous  occa- 
sion expressed  his  opinion  of  Americans  thus  strongly: 
"Sir,  they  are  a  race  of  convi<5ls,  and  ought  to  be 
thankful  for  anything  we  allow  them  short  of  hanging." 

Boswell  therefore  besought  the  lady  earnestly  not  to 
betray  her  nationality,  and  then  for  their  edification 
proceeded  to  draw  out  his  tame  lion,  the  said  lion 
responding  with  the  most  gratifying  result. 


DOWN   THE   ROAD  137 

The  ladles  were  enchanted.  "How  he  does  talk! 
Every  sentence  is  an  essay,"  said  one. 

The  younger  one  amused  herself  with  knotting,  and 
Dr.  Johnson  informed  her  that,  next  to  mere  idleness, 
he  considered  knotting  came  in  the  scale  of  insignificance. 

Idols  are  always  prone  to  tumble  down  unexpectedly, 
and  the  American  ladies,  who  had  listened  spellbound 
to  the  doftor's  conversation,  were  considerably  taken 
aback  when  he  flew  into  a  passion  because  the  coach 
dinner  was  not  to  his  liking.  He  roared  at  the  waiter, 
scolded  him  for  the  mutton,  saying:  "It  is  as  bad  as  it 
can  be;  it  is  ill-fed,  ill-killed,  ill-kept,  and  ill-dressed." 

On  the  return  journey  Dr.  Johnson,  being  out  of 
temper,  read  Euripides  and  found  fault  with  Boswell 
for  not  looking  out  of  the  window  and  observing  the 
things  on  the  road,  saying:  "If  I  had  your  eyes,  sir,  I 
should  count  the  passengers." 

Except  that  it  was  heresy  to  accuse  Dr.  Johnson  of 
levity,  it  would  almost  seem  that  he  was  thinking  of  the 
Road  game.  This  game  enjoyed  great  popularity,  for 
it  served  to  while  away  the  time,  and  gave  sporting 
charafters  a  chance  to  bet.  One  player  took  the  right 
side  of  the  road,  the  other  the  left;  dogs,  pigs,  cats, 
sheep,  magpies,  donkeys  and  various  other  things  likely 
to  be  met  with  had  their  relative  number  of  points,  the 
game  being  played  till  one  of  the  competitors  scored  a 
hundred,  or  whatever  number  had  been  previously 
settled  on. 

"Being  sworn  in"  at  Highgate  was  another  custom 
which  lightened  the  tedium  of  travel,  and  gave  rise  to 


138  THE   COACHING  ERA 

much  fun  and  amusement.  When  the  coaches  stopped, 
the  question  "Have  you  been  sworn  at  Highgate?"  was 
put  to  the  passengers.  Those  who  had  not,  and  confessed 
to  ignorance  of  the  ceremony,  were  told: 

"It's  the  custom  of  Highgate,  that  all  who  go  through 
Must  be  sworn  on  the  horns,  sir — and  so,  sir,  must  you." 

The  horns  fixed  on  a  long  pole  were  then  produced,  and 
the  new-comers,  instructed  by  the  landlord  of  the  inn 
who  acted  as  master  of  the  ceremonies,  took  the  fol- 
lowing oath: 

"Never  to  kiss  the  maid  when  he  could  get  the  mistress. 
Never  to  eat  brown  bread  when  he  could  get  white. 
Never  to  drink  small  beer  when  he  could  get  strong — unless 
he  prefer  it." 


CHAPTER  IX    THE  TRAVELLER'S  ORACLE 

SO  many  and  varied  were  the  ills  which  beset  the 
path  of  the  traveller  that  an  astute  author,  one 
William  Kitchiner,  M.D.,  conceived  the  brilliant 
idea  of  writing  The  Traveller's  Oracle,  which 
should  set  forth  all  the  perils  lying  in  wait  down  the 
road,  and  show  how  to  avoid  or,  at  any  rate,  circumvent 
them.  Incidentally,  the  wily  do6lor  managed  to  intro- 
duce puffs  for  his  other  literary  wares,  and  to  advertise 
many  commodities,  for  which  service  no  doubt  the 
proprietors  thereof  paid  him  well. 

The  "Oracle"  sounded  a  warning  note  from  the  very 
beginning,  for  though  Dr.  Kitchiner  admitted  that 
many  travellers  did  aftually  reach  their  destination 
safely,  yet  such  a  happy  termination  by  no  means  created 
a  precedent.  The  intending  traveller's  first  duty  there- 
fore was  to  make  his  will,  and  bequeath  all  his  earthly 
possessions,  so  that,  if  despite  the  assistance  of  the 
"Oracle,"  he  succumbed  by  the  way,  his  death  should 
occasion  his  relations  as  little  inconvenience  as  possible. 
Now  mankind  has  always  considered  the  making  of 
a  will  a  lugubrious  and  disagreeable  necessity,  but  Dr. 
Kitchiner  set  out  to  prove  that  such  was  pure  fallacy;  if 
approached  in  the  proper  spirit,  will  making  was  an 
agreeable  and  pleasant  pastime.  To  enjoy  its  delights  to 
the  full,  it  was  necessary  to  follow  closely  the  rules  set 
forth  in  one  of  Dr.  Kitchiner's  own  books  entitled  The 
Pleasure  of  Making  a  Will,  a  copy  of  which  should  be 
purchased  forthwith. 


139 


140  THE   COACHING  ERA 

His  worldly  affairs  being  settled,  the  traveller  was 
next  instrufted  how  to  go  to  the  coach  office  and  secure 
a  seat  on  a  coach.  Like  most  things  in  life,  the  author 
proved  there  was  a  right  and  a  wrong  way  of  doing  this 
seemingly  simple  performance.  If  left  to  himself  the 
traveller  was  sure  to  choose  the  wrong  one,  but  if  he 
abided  diligently  by  the  advice  of  the  "Oracle"  he 
could  rest  assured  that  his  actions  and  the  coach  office 
would  be  all  that  was  circumsped  and  corre6l. 

With  respeft  to  a  seat  on  the  outside  of  a  coach.  Dr. 
Kitchiner  forestalled  Mr.  Punch's  advice  famous  to 
those  about  to  marry,  and  said  "Don't,"  and  said  it, 
moreover,  most  emphatically.  If  the  traveller  ignored 
this  advice,  Dr.  Kitchiner  disclaimed  all  responsibility 
for  one  so  rash,  but  that  he  might  not  be  altogether 
abandoned  he  gave  a  few  hints  to  alleviate  the  ills 
which  must  inevitably  ensue.  He  counselled  the  "out- 
sider" to  wear  two  shirts  and  two  pairs  of  stockings;  to 
turn  up  the  collar  of  his  greatcoat,  tie  a  handkerchief 
round  it,  and  to  make  sure  he  had  plenty  of  straw  to  bury 
his  feet  in. 

Inside  travellers  received  valuable  advice  which  was 
warranted  to  add  to  their  comfort  very  materially. 
They  were  told  to  change  their  position  as  much  as 
possible;  to  lean  back  then  forward,  or  sideways,  by 
which  contortions  they  might  hope  to  avoid  the  cramp 
which  so  unerringly  seized  the  limbs  of  inside  passengers. 

If  the  rest  of  the  company  were  surly,  and  insisted  on 
keeping  both  windows  shut  till  the  atmosphere  of  the 
coach  was  unbearable,  the  traveller  was  to  ponder  well 


1HE    TRAVELLER'S   ORACLE        141 

in  his  mind  whether  he  would  prefer  almost  certain 
suffocation,  or  the  cost  of  three  shillings,  the  price  of  a 
pane  of  glass.  If  he  made  up  his  mind  to  risk  the  3s., 
he  was  told  to  knock  his  stick  "accidentally"  against  the 
window  so  that  the  glass  was  shattered.  He  would  then 
get  the  fresh  air  for  which  his  lungs  craved,  and  test  to 
the  full  his  fellow  travellers'  tempers. 

Undoubtedly  a  night  passed  in  a  coach  conduced 
to  irritability,  as  Dr.  Syntax  found  when  he  decided 
to  leave  his  patient  man  Grizzle  behind  and  return  to 
London  by  stage-coach: 

"A  horn  now  told  the  near  approach 

Of  some  convenient,  rapid  coach; 

And  soon  a  vehicle  and  four 

Appear'd  at  the  Red  Lion  door: 

Into  his  place  the  Do6lor  pounc'd: 

The  Coachman  smack'd,  and  off  they  bounc'd. 

The  scene  around  was  quite  composing, 

For  his  "companions  all  were  dosing; 

So  he  forsooth  conceiv'd  it  best 

To  close  his  lids,  and  try  to  rest. 

When  the  morn  dawn'd,  he  turned  an  eye 

Upon  his  slumb'ring  company: 

A  red-faced  man,  who  snor'd  and  snorted, 

A  lady,  with  both  eyes  distorted, 

And  a  young  Miss  of  pleasing  mien, 

With  all  the  life  of  gay  sixteen. 

A  sudden  jolt  their  slumbers^^broke; 

They  started  all,  and  all  awoke; 

When  Surly-boots  yawn'd  wide,  and  spoke, 

'We  move,'  said  he,  'confounded  slow!' 

'La,  Sir,'  cried  Miss,  'how  fast  we  go!' 


142  THE   COACHING  ERA 

While  Madam,  with  a  smirking  face, 

Declar'd  it  was  o'  middling  pace, 

Tray,  what  think  you,  Sir?' — 'I  agree,' 

Said  simp'ring  Syntax,  'with  all  three. 

Uphill,  our  course  is  rather  slow, 

Down  hill,  now  merrily  we  go! 

But  when  'tis  neither  up  nor  down. 

It  is  a  middling  pace,  I  own.' 

*0  la!'  cried  Miss,  'the  thought's  so  pretty!' 

'O  yes!'  growled  Red-face,  'very  witty!' 

The  Lady  said,  'If  I  can  scan 

The  temper  of  the  gentleman, 

He's  one  of  those,  I  have  no  doubt. 

Who  love  to  let  his  temper  out. 

Nor  fails  his  thread-bare  wit  to  play 

On  all  who  come  within  his  way: 

But  we  who — these  stages  roam, 

And  leave  our  coach-and-four  at  home, 

Deserve  our  lot  when  thus  we  talk 

With  those  who  were  ordain'd  to  walk. 

And  now,  my  niece,  you  see  how  wrong 

It  is  to  use  your  flippant  tongue. 

And  chatter,  as  you're  apt  to  do. 

With  anyone — the  Lord  knows  who.' 

Surly  turn'd  round,  and  friendly  sleep 

Soon  o'er  his  senses  'gan  to  creep! 

So  Syntax  thought  he'd  overlook 

The  embryo  of  his  future  book: 

Thus  all  was  silence  till  they  came 

To  the  great  town  we  London  name." 

Dr.  Kitchiner  had  a  word  to  say  anent  companions 
on  a  journey,  counselling  that  such  should  not  be  chosen 
lightly  or  with  imperfect  knowledge,  for  travelling  was  a 
sure  test  of  a  man's  character  and  idiosj^ncrasies.  As  a 


THE   TRAVELLER'S   ORACLE       143 

proof  of  which  he  pointed  out  how  distressing  would  be 
the  case  of  one  who  set  out  on  a  long  journey  with  a 
casual  acquaintance,  and  found  out  when  it  was  too 
late  to  change  that  his  companion  was  possessed  of  an 
insatiable  curiosity  that  led  him  to  examine  everything 
by  the  way,  and  rendered  him  indifferent  to  weather 
and  meals. 

The  "Oracle"  laid  down  a  few  rules  for  general  de- 
portment and  condud  when  travelling.  "Wear  a  plain 
Dress;  upon  no  account  display  any  Ring,  Watch, 
Trinkets,  etc.  nor  assume  any  Airs  of  Consequence." 
The  traveller  was  to  provide  himself  with  pens,  paper  and 
pencil,  and  make  careful  notes  of  everything  he  heard  or 
saw  by  the  way.  This  was  on  no  account  to  be  neglected, 
and  it  was  implied,  though  not  expressly  stated,  that 
some  awful  penalty  awaited  those  who  failed  to  do  so. 

He  was  also  to  be  liberal;  both  on  his  own  account, 
because  he  would  most  certainly  be  made  uncomfortable 
if  he  was  not,  and  because  it  was  the  right  and  proper 
thing  to  do;  which  caused  Dr.  Kitchiner  to  branch  off 
into  a  homily  on  the  blessedness  of  giving.  This  diffuse 
habit  the  worthy  doftor  was  much  addi6led  to;  on  the 
slightest  pretext  or  provocation  he  would  launch  out 
suddenly  into  such  irrelevant  topics  as  the  observance 
of  the  sabbath,  or  the  bringing  up  of  children. 

Also  he  dearly  loved  to  point  a  moral,  and  to  give  awful 
instances  of  foolhardy  men  who  had  stepped  aside 
from  the  path  of  virtue,  as  defined  for  them  in  The 
Traveller'' s  Oracle,  and  were  overwhelmed  withMisasters 
in  consequence. 


144  THE   COACHING  ERA 

Washing,  he  considered,  was  good  for  both  body  and 
soul,  and  after  advising  a  sponge  down  every  day,  and 
putting  the  feet  into  hot  water  at  night  to  induce  sleep, 
he  ends  with  the  trite  observation  that  "a  clean  skin 
may  be  regarded  as  next  in  efhcacy  to  a  clear  Con- 


science." 


There  was  one  awful  speftre  that  haunted  the  pages  of 
the  "Oracle,"  and  lay  in  wait  for  the  innocent  traveller. 
It  leapt  out  at  him  in  unexpected  places,  dragging  before 
his  startled  eyes  the  dour  shapes  of  death  and  disease. 
The  name  of  this  awful  and  menacing  ghost  was 
Strange  Beds. 

There  were  other  perils  which  beset  the  path  of  the 
unwary,  but  if  his  steps  were  guided  by  the  "Oracle" 
they  might  be  avoided;  but,  alas,  even  Dr.  Kitchiner 
could  hold  out  no  hope  that  the  constant  traveller  could 
escape  unscathed  from  the  dangers  which  beset  un- 
accustomed bedrooms  and  beds! 

All  the  alleviation  that  Dr.  Kitchiner's  extensive 
experience  could  suggest  was  generously  placed  at  the 
disposal  of  his  readers,  and  he  readily  laid  bare  the  most 
cherished  secrets  of  innkeepers,  whose  iniquity  must 
have  made  travellers  aghast.  Take  the  question  of 
sheets,  for  instance;  could  anything  be  more  eledrifying 
than  to  read  this:  "Clean  sheets  are  nor  remarkably 
common  at  Common  Inns,  where,  I  am  informed,  that 
the  pradice  is  to  take  them  from  the  Bed,  sprinkle 
them  with  Water,  to  fold  them  down,  and  put  them  in  a 
Press.  When  they  are  wanted  again,  they  are,  literally 
speaking,  shewn  to  the  Fire,  and  in  a  reeking  state  laid 


IHE    TRAVELLER'S   ORACLE       145 

on  the  Bed.  The  Traveller  is  tired  and  sleepy,  dreams  of 
that  Pleasure  or  that  business  which  brought  him  from 
Home,  and  the  remotest  thing  from  his  mind  is,  that 
from  the  very  repose  M^hich  he  fancies  has  refreshed  him 
he  has  received  the  Rheumatism.'^' 

To  avoid  these  ills,  "take  your  own  Sheets,  and  promise 
to  pay  a  handsome  consideration  for  the  liberty  of  choos- 
ing your  Bed."  Despite  the  lavish  gratuity,  it  was  more 
than  likely  that  the  chambermaid  would  negleft  to  put 
the  warming-pan  in  the  bed.  In  any  case  the  traveller 
was  to  try  an  infallible  test  given  in  the  "Oracle"; 
namely,  to  take  a  tumbler  and  place  it  in  the  bed  and 
leave  it  there  for  a  few  minutes.  If  when  he  removed  it, 
it  showed  the  faintest  trace  of  moisture  there  could  be 
no  doubt  about  it — the  bed  was  damp! 

When  this  was  proved  beyond  doubt,  he  must  instantly 
rend  the  offending  sheets  from  off  the  bed,  and  if  he 
was  a  careful  traveller  placing  implicit  reliance  in  the 
"Oracle,"  to  replace  them  with  leather  ones  which  he 
carried  about  with  him  ready  for  such  an  emergency. 
Otherwise,  his  only  alternative  was  to  sleep  between  the 
blankets. 

If  the  glass  stood  the  test,  and  the  traveller  sank 
luxuriously  into  the  sinless  bed,  he  was  by  no  means 
allowed  to  sleep  in  peace.  Scarcely  had  his  head  touched 
the  pillow  when  the  dim  spe6lres  of  whooping-cough, 
measles,  mumps,  scarlet  fever,  and  chicken-pox  crowded 
round  him,  and  he  started  up  shuddering  at  the  re- 
membrance of    some    words    suddenly  forced    on    his 

memory.    Reference    to   the    "Oracle"    confirmed   his 
10 


146  THE   COACHING   ERA 

worst  forebodings:  "Travellers  never  can  be  sure  that 
those  who  have  slept  in  the  Beds  before  them  were  not 
afflidted  with  some  contagious  disease." 

An  awful  thought  this  to  spring  upon  the  mind  of  a 
hitherto  trusting  and  unsuspicious  man.  As  a  remedy 
travellers  were  told  "they  should  carry  their  own  sheets 
with  them,  i.e.  a  light  eider  down  Quilt,  and  two  dressed 
Hart  Skins  should  be  put  upon  the  Mattresses  to  hinder 
the  disagreeable  contadt."  If  unprovided  with  these 
necessities,  he  was  advised  not  to  undress  but  to  sleep  in 
his  clothes. 

But  what  of  the  situation  of  the  unhappy  traveller 
who  had  neglecSled  to  bring  his  own  bedding,  had  already 
undressed  and  stepped  between  the  contaminated 
sheets?  Sorry  indeed  was  his  plight,  for  Dr.  Kitchiner, 
after  making  him  a  prey  to  nervous  fears,  gave  no  further 
counsel,  and  at  such  a  crisis  of  his  life  he  was  left  without 
moral  or  precept,  and  cast  entirely  on  his  own  inadequate 
resources. 

Dr.  Kitchiner  was  evidently  determined  that  his 
readers'  sleep  should  be  broken  and  uneasy,  for  if  the 
traveller  was  proof  against  the  beds  he  had  another  fear 
to  insinuate  and  spoil  his  night's  rest:  "In  Lonesome 
places,  where  an  accident  may  oblige  you  to  rest,  if 
you  carry  Fire-Arms  it  may  be  well  to  let  the  Land- 
lord see  (as  it  were  accidentally)  that  you  are  well 
Armed." 

He  then  cited  the  meritorious  example  of  a  gentleman, 
who  advised  all  who  did  not  wish  to  be  robbed  to  carry  a 
brace  of  blunderbusses,  and  to  put  the  muzzle  of  one  out 


THE   TRAVELLER'S   ORACLE       i^j 

of  each  coach  window  so  that  would-be  robbers  might 
see,  and  seeing  beware. 

Dr.  Kitchiner  recommended  pistols,  but  he  evidently 
thought  they  should  be  used  more  for  show  and  intimida- 
tion than  actual  defence,  for  he  earnestly  counselled  his 
readers  not  to  use  them  merely  to  save  their  money: 
"If  your  Pistol  takes  effeft  you  may  preserve  your 
Property,  but  it  is  a  melancholy  price  you  pay  for  it,  if 
it  costs  the  Life  of  a  fellow  Creature;  and  if  it  misses 
fire,  you  will  most  likely  not  only  be  Robbed,  but 
Murdered."! 

To  circumvent  the  landlord's  evil  designs  the  traveller 
was  urged  to  carry  a  supply  of  pocket  door  bolts  and 
screws  as  "these  may  on  many  occasions  save  the  Pro- 
perty and  the  Life  of  the  Traveller."  If  the  traveller  had 
neither  of  these  appliances,  and  the  door  could  not  be 
made  to  lock,  then  he  was  to  drag  the  heavy  furniture 
across  the  room  and  pile  it  against  the  door;  place  the 
jug  and  basin  where  they  would  rattle  if  disturbed; 
crawl  under  the  bed  to  see  if  it  did  not  harbour  an 
assassin,   and  open   cupboards   for   concealed   robbers. 

^  Many  people  entertained  a  strong  aversion  to  shooting  at 
a  highwayman.  Boswell  in  his  life  of  Dr.  Johnson  confirms  this 
in  his  entry  for  April  4th,  1778:  "He  talked  of  going  to  Streatham 
that  night." 

Taylor — "You'll  be  robbed  if  you  do:  or  you  must  shoot  a 
highwayman.  Now  I  would  rather  be  robbed  than  do  that;  I 
would  not  shoot  a  highwayman." 

Johnson — "But  I  would  rather  shoot  him  in  the  instant  when 
he  is  attempting  to  rob  me,  than  afterwards  swear  against  him 
at  the  Old  Bailey,  to  take  away  his  Hfe  after  he  had  robbed  me." 


148  THE   COACHING   ERA 

When  he  had  done  all  these  things  he  had  Dr.  Kitchiner's 
sandlion  to  go  to  sleep  if  he  could,  and  forget  damp  beds, 
infeftious  diseases,  and  unscrupulous  landlords  thirsting 
for  his  blood. 

The  "Oracle,"  furthermore,  contained  a  long  list  of 
all  the  things  essential  for  a  traveller's  comfort  and 
security,  which  was  remarkable  both  for  its  length  and 
the  various  uses  to  which  the  different  articles  could  be 
put. 

First  and  foremost  he  must  provide  himself  with  a 
tough  blackthorn  stick  three  feet  long,  marked  so  that 
it  may  be  used  as  a  measure.  Although  undoubtedly 
delightful  as  a  yard  measure,  the  chief  use  of  this  stick 
was  as  a  weapon  of  defence  against  dogs,  for  every  species 
of  the  canine  tribe  was  in  Dr.  Kitchiner's  eyes  a  sinister 
menace  of  hydrophobia;  for  which  fell  disease  he  very 
truly  remarks  "semi-drowning  in  the  Sea"  is  no  remedy. 

Stray  dogs  and  fowls  were  alike  abominable  in  the  eyes 
of  Dr.  Kitchiner,  and  he  strenuously  advocated  that  all 
such  should  wear  collars  with  their  names  and  addresses 
thereon.  Legislation  now  decrees  that  our  dogs  shall 
walk  thus  labelled,  but  we  have  yet  to  see  the  day  when 
the  roosters  and  their  lady  wives  shall  strut  round  farm- 
yards with  neat  leather  collars  round  each  feathered 
neck. 

The  next  necessity  was  a  knife,  but  not  one  of  the 
common  kind,  for  it  was  imperative  that  besides  blades 
it  should  possess  a  saw,  a  hook,  a  turnscrew,  a  gun-picker, 
tweezers,  and  a  corkscrew,  the  latter  especially  to  be 
"long  and  large  enough  to  be  useful."  The  very  thought 


THE   TRAVELLER'S   ORACLE       149 

of  such  a  paragon  among  knives  would  drive  the  pro- 
spe6live  traveller  to  despair,  for  where  could  he  hope  to 
get  one  possessing  so  many  perfedlions,  and  which  if 
satisfadlory  as  to  tweezers  should  not  fail  lamentably  as 
to  the  saw,  or  whose  corkscrew  fell  short  of  the  desired 
size.  Dr.  Kitchiner,  ever  ready  to  help,  informed  him 
that  a  knife  possessing  all  narrated  qualifications  could 
be  obtained  from  the  maker,  one  Coleman  at  No.  4 
Haymarket. 

"Golashes  or  Parabones"  were  advised  as  proteftions 
against  damp;  and  for  a  cheap  and  comfortable  travel- 
ling cap  nothing  was  so  satisfaftory  as  a  "Welch 
Wig." 

Whatever  else  he  left  behind  the  traveller  was  exhorted 
to  take  his  umbrella;  and  such  an  umbrella,  for,  says  the 
"Oracle,"  "the  stick  of  which  may  contain  a  Telescope 
or  a  Sword." 

The  list  is  too  long  to  give  in  full,  but  here  are  some  of 
the  things  Dr.  Kitchiner  considered  indispensable: 

A  Portable  Case  of  Instruments  for  Drawing. 

A  Sketch  and  a  Note-Book. 

A  folding  one  Foot  Rule. 

A  Hunting  Watch  with  seconds. 

A  Mariner's  Compass;   this  may   be   in   a   Seal,  on   the 

top  of  a  Snuff-Box,  or  Head  of  a  Cane. 
A  Thermometer;  this  may  be  in  a  Tooth-Pick  case. 
A  Barometer  for  measuring  heights;  this  may  be  in  a 

Walking-Stick. 
Dr.  Kitchiner's  Invisible  Opera  Glass. 
A  Night  Lamp. 
A  Tinder  Box. 


I50  THE   COACHING  ERA 

Added  to  these  were  of  course  the  sheets,  eiderdown 
quilt,  and  the  hart  skins,  besides  personal  clothing,  so 
that  the  reader  who  faithfully  carried  out  the  direftions 
enshrined  in  the  "Oracle"  encountered  a  serious  obstacle 
not  referred  to  in  those  pages.  Travellers  generally  were 
only  allowed  14  lb.  weight  of  luggage,  extra  weight  being 
chargeable  at  3d.  per  lb.,  and  its  carriage  on  a  full  coach 
uncertain. 

Imagination  refuses  adequately  to  pidlure  the  harrow- 
ing situation  of  a  traveller  endeavouring  to  reduce  his 
luggage  within  prescribed  limits,  and  hesitating  between 
sacrificing  a  change  of  linen,  the  hart  skins,  or  the  knife 
with  the  saw  and  adequate  corkscrew. 


CHAPTER  X  THE  COACH  AS  NEWS-BEARER 

PEOPLE  who  live  in  this  twentieth  century, 
and  consider  a  daily  paper,  telegraph  and  tele- 
phone, necessities  without  which  life  would  be 
unthinkable,  cannot  realize  the  time  when  there 
was  no  official  organ  for  the  distribution  of  news,  and 
when  Kings  might  die,  empires  totter  and  fall,  and 
wars  begin  and  end,  without  the  inhabitants  of  the 
country  districts  being  any  the  wiser,  or  hearing  of  the 
matter  till  long  afterwards.-"- 

News  filtered  through  the  provinces  by  the  agencies 
of  travellers  who  halted  at  the  various  inns  on  the  road, 
it  then  circulated  byword  of  mouth,  so  that  by  the  time 
it  reached  the  remote  villages  it  was  so  distorted  and 
garbled  as  to  bear  scant  resemblance  to  the  original 
matter. 

The  pedlars  and  pack-horse  carriers  were  more 
reliable  authorities,  and  they  considered  the  latest  news 
from  London  as  part  of  their  stock  in  trade,  though,  as 
they  travelled  slowly,  it,  like  the  goods  they  carried, 

^  Lord  Macaulay  says  that  the  news  of  Queen  Elizabeth's 
death  was  not  known  in  parts  of  Devon  and  Cornwall  till  the 
Court  of  her  successor  had  ceased  to  wear  mourning  for  her. 
Bridgewater  did  not  hear  that  Oliver  Cromwell  had  assumed  the 
Protectorship  till  nineteen  days  after  the  event.  The  execution 
of  King  Charles  I  was  not  known  in  parts  of  Wales  till  two 
months  after  it  had  taken  place,  whilst  the  churches  in  the 
Orkneys  put  up  prayers  for  him  long  after  he  was  beheaded, 
and  their  successors  did  the  same  for  James  II  after  he  had  left 
the  kingdom. 


152  THE   COACHING   ERA 

was  liable  to  be  somewhat  out  of  date  by  the  time  they 
reached  the  end  of  their  journey. 

When  coaches  began  to  ply  their  uneven  way  along 
the  road,  they  became  important  fadlors  in  country  life, 
for  it  was  through  their  agency  that  the  villagers  in  the 
provinces  became  acquainted  with  the  happenings  of 
the  great  world  which  pulsated  far  beyond  the  ken  of 
their  uneventful  humdrum  existence. 

Samuel  Crisp  (the  beloved  "Daddy  Crisp"  of  Fanny 
Burney's  diary),  in  a  letter  written  at  Chesington  in 
1780,  tells  his  sister  that  the  Epsom  coachman  has  just 
brought  the  news  ^  "that  there  had  been  another  Riot  on 
Tuesday  with  the  cry  of  No  Popery!  and  that  some  of  the 
Rioters  were  shot  and  others  apprehended." 

The  summer  of  1820  was  a  noteworthy  one,  both  for 
the  intense  heat,  which  caused  horses  to  drop  dead  in  the 
roads  and  labourers  in  the  fields,  and  for  the  excitement 
created  by  the  trial  of  Queen  Caroline.  The  populace 
sided  with  her  enthusiastically,  cheered  wildly  when 
she  appeared  in  Court,  hooted  her  enemies  with  equal 
fervour,  and  in  the  provinces  "along  the  line  of  the  mails, 
crowds  stood  waiting  in  the  burning  sunshine  for  news 
of  the  trial."2 

During  the  stirring  years  of  the  late  eighteenth  and 
early  nineteenth  centuries,  when  events  of  great  magni- 
tude followed  each  other  in  quick  succession,  it  was  by 
the  coaches  that  the  country-folk  heard  with  horror  of 
the  atrocities  of  the  French  Revolution;  followed  the 

1  Burford  Papers.  W.  H.  Hutton. 

2  A  History  of  the  Thirty  Years'  Peace.  H.^Martineau. 


THE   COACH   AS   NEWS-BEARER     153 

progress  of  the  French  and  Spanish  wars;  thrilled  with 
pride  at  the  news  of  Trafalgar;  paled  with  dismay  at  the 
rumours  that  the  all  powerful  Napoleon  was  about  to 
invade  England;  slept  more  easily  in  their  beds  when 
they  heard  of  his  imprisonment;  trembled  with  fear  at 
the  staggering  news  of  his  escape  from  St.  Helena; 
and  shouted  themselves  hoarse  for  the  great  viftory  of 
Waterloo.  "I  could  wish  myself  in  London  to  be  three- 
and-forty  hours  nearer  the  news.  Was  there  ever  such 
a  land  battle  in  modern  times!"  wrote  Southey  from 
Keswick  on  July  loth,  1815. 

When  despatches  arrived  telling  of  some  great  English 
viftory  by  land  or  sea,  London  rang  its  bells  and  went 
wild  with  joy,  but  to  the  coaches  fell  the  proud  distin6lion 
of  spreading  the  joyful  news  throughout  the  length 
and  breadth  of  the  land. 

To  show  that  they  performed  this  duty  in  no  un- 
certain manner,  I  append  De  Quincey's  account  of  such 
an  occasion,  and  which  for  a  piece  of  impassioned  prose 
vibrating  with  the  true  spirit  of  coaching  has  never  been 
surpassed: 

Going  Down  with  Victory 

But  the  grandest  chapter  of  our  experience,  within 
the  whole  mail-coach  service,  was  on  those  occasions 
when  we  went  down  from  London  with  the  news  of 
victory.  A  period  of  about  ten  years  stretched  from 
Trafalgar  to  Waterloo;  the  second  and  third  years  of 
which  period  (1806  and  1807)  were  comparatively  sterile; 
but  the  other  nine  (from  1805  to  181 5  inclusively) 
furnished  a  long  succession  of  vidlories;  the  least  of  which, 


154  THE   COACHING  ERA 

in  such  a  conquest  of  Titans,  had  an  inappreciable  value 
of  position — partly  for  its  absolute  interference  with  the 
plans  of  our  enemy,  but  still  more  for  its  keeping  alive 
through  central  Europe  that  sense  of  a  deep-seated  vul- 
nerability in  France.  Even  to  tease  the  coasts  of  our 
enemy,  to  mortify  them  by  continual  blockades,  to  insult 
them  by  capturing  if  it  were  but  a  baubling  schooner 
under  the  eyes  of  their  arrogant  armies,  repeated  from 
time  to  time  a  sullen  proclamation  of  power  lodged  in 
one  quarter  to  which  the  hopes  of  Christendom  turned 
in  secret.  How  much  more  loudly  must  this  proclama- 
tion have  spoken  in  the  audacity  of  having  bearded  the 
elite  of  their  troops,  and  having  beaten  them  in  pitched 
battles!  Five  years  of  life  it  was  worth  paying  down  for 
the  privilege  of  an  outside  place  on  a  mail-coach,  when 
carrying  down  the  first  tidings  of  any  such  event.  And 
it  is  to  be  noted  that,  from  our  insular  situation,  and  the 
multitude  of  our  frigates  disposable  for  the  rapid  trans- 
mission of  intelligence,  rarely  did  any  unauthorized 
rumour  steal  away  a  prelibation  from  the  first  aroma 
of  the  regular  despatches.  The  government  news  was 
generally  the  earliest  news. 

From  eight  p.m.  to  fifteen  or  twenty  minutes  later, 
imagine  the  mails  assembled  on  parade  in  Lombard 
Street,  where,  at  that  time,  and  not  in  St.  Martin's-le- 
Grand,  was  seated  the  General  Post  Office.  In  what 
exadl  strength  we  mustered  I  do  not  remember,  but 
from  the  length  of  each  separate  attelage,  we  filled  the 
street,  though  a  long  one,  and  though  we  were  drawn 
up  in  double  file.  On  any  night  the  speftacle  was 
beautiful.  The  absolute  perfeftion  of  all  the  appoint- 
ments about  the  carriages  and  harness,  their  strength, 
their  brilliant  cleanliness,  their  beautiful  simplicity — 
but,  more  than  all,  the  royal  magnificence  of  the  horses — 
were  what  might  first  have  fixed  the  attention.  Every 


THE   COACH   AS   NEWS-BEARER     155 

carriage,  on  every  morning  in  the  year,  was  taken  down 
to  an  official  inspeftor  for  examination — wheels,  axles, 
linchpins,  pole,  glasses,  lamps,  were  all  critically  probed 
and   tested.  Every   part    of   every   carriage   had   been 
cleaned,  every  horse  had  been  groomed,  with  as  much 
rigour  as  if  they  belonged  to  a  private  gentleman;    and 
that  part  of  the  speftacle  offered  itself  always.  But  the 
night  before  us  is  a  night  of  vidtory,  and  behold!  to  the 
ordinary  display,  what  a  heart-shaking  addition! — horses, 
men,  carriages,  all  are  dressed  in  laurels  and  flowers, 
oak-leaves  and  ribbons.  The  guards,  as  being  officially 
His  Majesty's  servants,  and  of  the  coachmen  such  as 
are  within  the  privilege  of  the  post-office,  wear  the 
royal  liveries  of  course  ;  and  as  it  is  summer  (for  all  the 
land  victories  were   naturally  won   in   summer),   they 
wear,  on  this  fine  evening,  these  liveries  exposed  to 
view,   without   any   covering  of   upper   coats.  Such   a 
costume,  and  the  elaborate  arrangement  of  the  laurels 
in  their  hats,  dilate  their  hearts,  by  giving  them  openly 
a  personal  connection  with  the  great  news,  in  which 
already  they  have  the  general  interest  of  patriotism. 
That  great  national  sentiment  surmounts  and  quells 
all  sense  of  ordinary  distinftions.  Those  passengers  who 
happen  to  be  gentlemen  are  now  hardly  to  be  distin- 
guished as  such  except  by  their  dress;    for  the  usual 
reserve  of  their  manner  in  speaking  to  the  attendants 
has  on  this  night  melted  away.  One  heart,  one  pride, 
one  glory,   connects   every  man   by  the   transcendent 
bond  of  his  national  blood.  The  spectators,  who  are 
numerous   beyond   precedent,   express   their   sympathy 
with  these  fervent  feelings  by  continual  hurrahs.  Every 
moment  are  shouted  aloud  by  the  post-office  servants, 
and  summoned  to  draw  up,  the  great  ancestral  names  of 
cities   known   to  history  through   a   thousand  years — 
Lincoln,  Winchester,  Portsmouth,  Gloucester,  Oxford, 


156  THE   COACHING  ERA 

Bristol,  Manchester,  York,  Newcastle,  Edinburgh, 
Glasgow,  Perth,  Stirling,  Aberdeen — expressing  the 
grandeur  of  the  empire  hy  the  antiquity  of  its  towns, 
and  the  grandeur  of  the  mail  establishment  by  the 
diffuse  radiation  of  its  separate  missions.  Every  moment 
you  hear  the  thunder  of  lids  locked  down  upon  the 
mail-bags.  That  sound  to  each  individual  mail  is  the 
signal  for  drawing  off,  which  process  is  the  finest  part 
of  the  entire  spedlacle.  Then  come  the  horses  into 
play.  Horses!  can  these  be  horses  that  bound  off  with 
the  aftion  and  gestures  of  leopards?  What  stir! — what 
sea-like  ferment! — what  a  thundering  of  wheels! — what 
a  trampling  of  hoofs! — what  a  sounding  of  trumpets! — 
what  farewell  cheers — what  redoubled  peals  of  brotherly 
congratulation,  connefling  the  name  of  the  particular 
mail; — "Liverpool  for  ever!" — with  the  name  of  the 
particular  vi£lory — "Badajoz  for  ever!"  or  "Salamanca 
for  ever!"  The  half-slumbering  consciousness  that,  all 
night  long  and  all  the  next  day — perhaps  for  even  a 
longer  period — many  of  these  mails,  like  fire  racing  along 
a  train  of  gunpowder,  will  be  kindling  at  every  instant 
new  successions  of  burning  joy,  has  an  obscure  effeft  of 
multiplying  the  viftory  itself,  by  multiplying  to  the 
imagination  into  infinity  the  stages  of  its  progressive 
diffusion.  A  fiery  arrow  seems  to  be  let  loose,  which 
from  that  moment  is  destined  to  travel,  without  inter- 
mission, westwards  for  three  hundred  miles — north- 
wards for  six  hundred;  and  the  sympathy  of  our 
Lombard  Street  friends  at  parting  is  exalted  a  hundred- 
fold by  a  sort  of  visionary  sympathy  with  the  yet 
slumbering  sympathies  which  in  so  vast  a  succession  we 
are  going  to  awake. 

Liberated  from  the  embarrassments  of  the  city,  and 
issuing  into  the  broad  uncrowded  avenues  of  the 
northern  suburbs,  we  soon  begin  to  enter  upon  our 


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S  I 

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THE   COACH  AS   NEWS-BEARER     157 

natural  pace  of  ten  miles  an  hour.  In  the  broad  light  of 
the  summer  evening,  the  sun,  perhaps,  only  just  at  the 
point  of  setting,  we  are  seen  from  every  storey  of  every 
house.  Heads  of  every  age  crowd  to  the  windows — 
young  and  old  understand  the  language  of  our  victorious 
symbols — and  rolling  volleys  of  sympathizing  cheers 
run  along  us,  behind  us,  and  before  us.  The  beggar, 
rearing  himself  against  the  wall,  forgets  his  lameness — 
real  or  assumed — thinks  not  of  his  whining  trade,  but 
stands  ere6l,  with  bold,  exulting  smiles,  as  we  pass  him. 
.  .  .  Women  and  children,  from  garrets  alike  and  cellars, 
through  infinite  London,  look  down  or  look  up  with 
loving  eyes  upon  our  gay  ribbons  and  our  martial 
laurels;  sometimes  kiss  their  hands;  sometimes  hang 
out,  as  signals  of  affeftion,  pocket-handkerchiefs,  aprons, 
dusters,  anything  that,  by  catching  the  summer  breezes, 
will  express  an  aerial  jubilation. 

As  the  coach  sped  swiftly  along  the  country  roads  the 
excitement  by  no  means  decreased,  for  its  gay  decora- 
tions gave  aftual  demonstration  of  joyful  tidings. 
Labourers  at  work  in  the  fields  paused  to  look,  and 
seeing  the  triumphant  laurels  shouted  hurrah  with  all 
the  strength  of  their  lusty  lungs.  Passengers  felt  an 
ele6lric  sense  of  kinsmanship  with  those  men  so  strong 
and  reliant,  whose  sons  and  brothers  had  stood  side  by 
side  with  theirs,  as  for  the  honour  of  Old  England  they 
faced  and  vanquished  the  common  foe.  Ad:uated  by 
these  feelings  they  stood  up  on  the  coach,  waved  their 
hats  and  shouted  out  the  name  of  the  vidlory.  Children 
by  the  road-side  yelled  with  joy  as  the  coach  passed  by; 
for  them  the  viftory  had  a  special  significance,  for  they 
felt  it  had  hammered  another  nail  in  the  coffin  of  the 


158  THE   COACHING   ERA 

hated  "Boney,"  whose  terrifying  personality  exercised 
a  spell  of  awe  in  all  British  nurseries. 

At  the  different  stages  the  guard  retailed  as  much 
information  as  could  be  crammed  into  the  brief  period 
assigned  by  his  Way-bill,  which  had  to  be  stridlly 
adhered  to,  viftory  or  no  vi6lory,  or  the  Post  Office 
would  require  to  know  the  reason  ;  nor  would  they 
consider  the  news  of  a  national  vi6fory  a  fitting  excuse 
for  lost  time. 

Where  postal  business  had  to  be  transafted,  and 
the  stoppages  were  in  consequence  of  longer  duration, 
the  red  coated  guard  became  a  person  of  the  greatest 
importance,  and  was  surrounded  by  a  group  of  listeners 
eagerly  demanding  more  definite  and  explicit  tidings. 
Some  of  the  questioners  had  relatives  at  the  seat  of  war, 
and  these  awaited  his  news  with  fast  beating  hearts,  for 
to  them  a  battle  had  poignant  and  personal  interest, 
and  the  word  vi6lory  held  no  significance  till  they  were 
assured  it  had  not  been  purchased  at  the  expense  of 
lives  they  held  inexpressibly  dear. 

Sometimes  the  guard  would  bring  down  a  copy  of 
a  newspaper  when  his  dignity  was  increased  tenfold, 
for  a  newspaper  was  no  everyday  occurrence,  and  the 
country-folk  had  implicit  belief  in  everything  printed 
thereon;  and  since  few  of  them  could  read  they  accorded 
unstinted  admiration  to  the  guard  who  could. 

As  the  circulation  of  newspapers  became  general, 
and  the  provincial  interest  in  politics  in  consequence 
more  adlive,  the  result  of  some  noteworthy  trial  or 
legislation  was  awaited  with  the  keenest  impatience. 


THE   COACH   AS   NEWS-BEARER      159 

This  was  especially  the  case  at  the  time  of  the  Reform 
Bill  when  the  country  was  wild  with  excitement  as  to  the 
result.  There  was  no  telegraph  to  flash  the  news  to 
them,  and  the  provinces  were  forced  to  wait  with  what 
patience  they  could  muster  till  the  London  coaches 
came  down. 

That  was  a  red  letter  day  for  the  guards  whose 
coaches  carried  the  first  papers,  for  so  eager  were  people 
to  buy  them  that  there  was  practically  no  limit  as  to  the 
price  they  were  prepared  to  pay.  At  Shottenham  a 
gentleman  gave  William  Bayzand  ^i  for  a  copy  of  the 
dimes',  at  Ross  he  parted  with  another  copy  for  £2,  and 
the  farther  the  coach  went  west  the  greater  was  the 
excitement. 

An  up  coach  met  the  Mazeppa,  and  the  guard  shouted 
out: 

"Has  the  Bill  passed?" 

"It  has,"  said  Bayzand,  hoarse  from  replying  to  the 
same  question,  called  to  him  at  every  village. 

"Have  you  got  a  copy  of  the  Times  with  the  news 
in?"  inquired  the  other  guard. 

"Yes." 

"Then  don't  be  surprised  at  anything  that  takes 
place,  for  the  moment  the  Hereford  people  know  they 
will  carry  your  paper  and  all  off  the  coach  to  the  inn." 

Sure  enough  they  did,  for  politics  ran  high  at  Here- 
ford, and  before  the  coach  stopped  Bayzand  was  pulled 
from  his  seat,  and  carried  on  the  shoulders  of  four  men 
to  the  club  room.  The  chairman  gave  the  guard  a 
five-pound  note  for  a  copy  of  the   Times,  which  he 


i6o  THE   COACHING  ERA 

read  amid  shouts  of  applause,  and  afterwards  framed  and 
hung  up  in  the  club  room. 

When  party  politics  ran  high  and  an  ele£lion  was 
in  progress,  the  coaches  played  an  important  part,  and 
people  who  were  rash  enough  to  travel  down  the  road 
on  those  occasions  laid  themselves  open  to  distindl 
dangers. 

Dickens  throws  a  lurid  light  on  the  ta£l:ics  employed, 
and  it  is  small  wonder  that  the  amiable  and  credulous 
Mr.  Pickwick  felt  agitated  concerning  the  fate  of  the 
luckless  old  gentleman  who  trusted  his  person  on  old 
Mr.  Weller's  coach  during  a  hotly  contested  election, 
and  whose  tragic  fate  was  thus  narrated  by  the  versatile 
Sam  Weller. 

'"Ledlion  time  came  on,  and  he  was  engaged  by 
vun  party  to  bring  down  woters  from  London.  Night 
afore  he  was  a  going  to  drive  up,  committee  on  t'other 
side  sends  for  him  quietly,  and  away  he  goes  vith  the 
messenger,  who  shows  him  in; — large  room — lots  of 
gen'l'm'n — heaps  of  papers,  pens  and  ink,  and  all  that 
'ere.  'Ah,  Mr.  Weller,'  says  the  gen'l'm'n  in  the  chair, 
*glad  to  see  you,  sir;  how  are  you?' — 'Wery  well, 
thank'ee,  sir,'  says  my  father;  'I  hope  you're  pretty 
middlin','  says  he. — 'Pretty  well,  thank'ee,  sir,'  says 
the  gen'l'm'n;  'sit  down,  Mr.  Weller — pray  sit  down, 
sir.'  So  my  father  sits  down,  and  he  and  the 
gen'l'm'n  looks  wery  hard  at  each  other.  'You  don't 
remember  me?'  says  the  gen'l'm'n. — 'Can't  say  I  do,* 
says  my  father. — 'Oh,  I  know  you,'  said  the  gen'l'm'n; 
'know'd  you  when  you  was  a  boy,'  says  he. — 'Well,  I 
don't  remember  you,'  says  my  father. — 'That's  wery 
odd,'  says  the  gen'l'm'n. — 'Wery,'   says  my  father. — 


THE   COACH   AS   NEWS-BEARER     i6i 

'You  must  have  a  bad  mem'ry,  Mr.  Weller,'  says  the 
gen'l'm'n. — 'Well,  it  is  a  wery  bad  'un,'  says  my  father. — 
'I  thought  so,'  says  the  gen'l'm'n.  So  then  they  pours 
him  out  a  glass  o'  wine,  and  gammons  him  about  his 
driving,  and  gets  him  into  a  reg'lar  good  humour,  and 
at  last  shoves  a  twenty  pound  note  in  his  hand.  'It's  a 
wery  bad  road  between  this  and  London,'  says  the 
gen'l'm'n. — 'Here  and  there  it  is  a  wery  heavy  road,' 
says  my  father. — "Specially  near  the  canal,  I  think,' 
says  the  gen'l'm'n.  —  'Nasty  bit  that  'ere,'  says  my 
father. — 'Well,  Mr.  Weller,'  says  the  gen'l'm'n,  'you're  a 
wery  good  whip,  and  can  do  what  you  like  with  your 
horses,  we  know.  We're  all  wery  fond  o'  you,  Mr.  Weller, 
so  in  case  you  should  have  an  accident  when  you're 
a  bringing  these  here  woters  down,  and  should  tip  'em 
over  into  the  canal  vithout  hurtin'  o'  'em,  this  is  for 
yourself,'  says  he.  —  'Gen'l'm'n,  you're  wery  kind,' 
says  my  father,  'and  I'll  drink  your  health  in  another 
glass  of  wine,'  says  he;  vhich  he  did,  and  then 
buttons  up  the  money,  and  bows  himself  out.  You 
vouldn't  believe,  sir,"  continued  Sam  with  a  look  of 
inexpressible  impudence  at  his  master,  "that  on  the 
wery  day  as  he  came  down  with  them  woters,  his  coach 
was  upset  on  that  'ere  wery  spot,  and  ev'ry  man  on  'em 
was  turned  into  the  canal.'" 

"And  got  out  again?"  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick  hastily. 

"Why,"  replied  Sam,  very  slowly,  "I  rather  think  one 
old  gen'l'm'n  was  missin'.  I  know  his  hat  was  found, 
but  I  an't  quite  certain  whether  his  head  was  in  it 
or  not.  But  what  I  look  at  is,  the  hex-traordinary  and 
wonderful  coincidence,  that  arter  what  that  gen'l'm'n 
said  my  father's  coach  should  be  upset  in  that  wery 
place,  and  on  that  wery  day!" 


II 


CHAPTER  XI  HIGHWAYMEN 

ROBBERY  has  existed  from  the  very  earliest 
times,  and  no  doubt  the  socialistic  dodlrine 
that  men  should  have  all  things  in  common 
started  with  the  first  primeval  man,  who 
by  working  strenuously  amassed  more  goods  than  his 
neighbours.  These  considered  that  by  so  doing  he  had 
contravened  their  statutes,  and  at  once  proceeded  to 
readjust  matters  by  appropriating  that  which  he  had  so 
hardly  earned.  This  principle  of  taking  from  one  man 
to  supply  the  wants  of  another  was  closely  followed 
throughout  all  ages,  but  those  who  took  upon  them- 
selves thus  to  keep  the  balance  of  things  were  not  looked 
on  kindly,  and  were,  in  fadl,  spoken  of  unfavourably  as 
robbers. 

As  the  followers  of  this  lucrative  profession  increased, 
there  began  to  be  distindtions  amongst  them,  and 
robbers,  foot-pads,  and  pickpockets,  all  indicated 
different  branches  of  their  calling.  Those  in  the  very 
front  rank  of  all,  the  highwaymen,  were  such  fine 
fellows  that  they  would  have  been  very  grievously 
offended  if  anyone  had  presumed  to  call  them  rascals 
and  ruffians,  as  in  very  truth  they  were. 

Some  of  the  earliest  highwaymen  were  the  Cavaliers;^ 
who,  when  the  Civil  War  ended  so  disastrously  for  their 

1  "  Since  the  disbanding  of  the  late  army  we  heard  of  several 
robberies  and  mischiefs  committed  in  many  places  in  England. 
Many  of  the  robbers  having  been  seized  and  committed  to 
prison  upon  the  same  account,"  Newsletter. 


HIGHWAYMEN  163 

cause,  took  to  the  highway  and  robbed  Parliamentarians 
for  a  Hvelihood.  One  of  them,  James  Hind,  the  son  of  a 
saddler  of  Chipping  Norton,  so  far  prospered  that  he 
was  able  to  plunder  Peters  and  Bradshaw,  two  of  the 
regicides.  He  narrowly  escaped  the  proud  distinftion 
of  robbing  Cromwell  himself,  a  deed  which  all  Cavaliers, 
highwaymen  and  otherwise,  would  have  accounted  both 
just  and  righteous.  Though  they  undoubtedly  enjoyed 
their  spoils  the  better  when  filched  from  the  pockets  of 
a  Roundhead,  the  highwaymen  were  not  blind  to  the 
fadl  that  Royalist  gold  had  every  whit  as  much  pur- 
chasing power,  and  was  not  to  be  despised  when  Parlia- 
mentary coin  was  scarce. 

Later  generations  cared  not  from  whence  their  booty 
came,  but  levied  toll  on  all  and  sundry  without  dis- 
tindfion  of  persons  or  politics.  These  highwaymen  of 
the  eighteenth  century  held  such  an  exalted  opinion  of 
themselves  and  their  profession  that  even  the  term 
"highwaymen"  was  not  sufficiently  refined  for  their 
sensitive  feelings,  and  "Gentlemen  of  the  Road"  or 
"Road  Inspedlors"  were  terms  more  to  their  liking. 
Incredible  as  it  seems,  these  men  who  made  it  their 
business  to  rob  and  plunder  on  the  highway  considered 
themselves  gentlemen,  and  constantly  impressed  this 
fa6t  on  their  viftims;  even  Dick  Turpin,  who  was  a 
ruffian  even  for  highwaymen,  returned  a  mourning  ring 
with  the  remark  that  they  were  "too  much  of  gentlemen 
to  take  anything  a  gentleman  valued  so  much." 

We  have  it  on  authority  that  the  world  takes  people 
at  their  own  valuation,  and  the  highwaymen,  with  their 


i64  THE   COACHING   ERA 

black  masks,  pistols,  gay  apparel  and  fine  horses,  forced 
the  public,  or  at  least  that  part  of  it  which  was  not  being 
robbed  at  the  time,  to  regard  them  with  romance.  For 
the  most  part  they  were  brutal,  degenerate  men,  yet 
such  was  the  glamour  of  their  calling,  and  the  fame  of 
the  stories  gathered  round  their  names,  that  they  were 
quite  unworthily  regarded  almost  in  the  light  of  heroes 
by  the  country-folk;  though  the  general  supposition 
that  they  robbed  the  rich  to  pay  the  poor  is  not  borne 
out  by  a  close  perusal  of  their  lives.  "Light  come,  light 
go  "  was  their  motto,  and  the  proceeds  of  their  robberies 
were  spent  in  licentious  and  profligate  pleasures. 

The  road  came  to  be  looked  upon  as  such  a  respeftable 
profession  that  men  who  would  have  scorned  the  very 
suggestion  of  soiling  their  hands  with  trade  or  honest 
work  took  to  it  as  a  means  of  repairing  their  fallen 
fortunes.  Road-struck  youths  thought  they  saw  in  it  a 
short  cut  to  wealth,  and  in  1774  a  newspaper  recounted 
that  seven  highwaymen  recently  captured  proved  to  be 
boys  from  eighteen  to  twenty  belonging  to  well-to-do 
and  respe6fable  families. 

There  were  not  wanting  instances  of  gentlemen  who 
lived  unsuspefted  among  their  neighbours,  to  all  appear- 
ances honest  country  squires,  leading  monotonous  and 
blameless  lives,  but  who,  as  a  matter  of  fa6f,  were 
highwaymen  who  sallied  out  at  night  intent  on  robbery. 
The  most  notorious  of  these  supposed  country  gentle- 
men, the  brothers  Weston,  lived  at  Winchelsea  and 
have  been  immortalized  by  Thackeray  in  his  novel 
Dennis  Duval, 


HIGHWAYMEN  165 

The  "  High  Toby"  profession  was,  in  fa6l,  filled  to 
overflowing  ;  Macaulay  says  mounted  highwaymen  were 
to  be  found  on  every  main  road,  Hounslow  Heath, 
Finchley  Common,  Epping  Forest,  Maidenhead 
Thicket,  and  Gadshill^  being  of  special  ill-repute. 

Horace  Walpole  wrote  that,  if  the  squires  did  not 
leave  off  shooting  partridges  and  take  to  shooting  high- 
waymen instead,  society  would  be  dissolved.  In  a  letter 
to  Sir  Horace  Mann,  he  declared  "Our  roads  are  so 
infested  by  highwaymen  that  it  is  dangerous  stirring  out 
almost  by  day.  Lady  Hertford  was  attacked  on  Houn- 
slow Heath  at  three  in  the  afternoon.  Dr.  Eliot  was 
shot  at  three  days  ago,  without  having  resisted,  and  the 
day  before  yesterday  we  were  near  losing  our  Prime 
Minister,  Lord  North;  the  robbers  shot  at  the  postilion, 
and  wounded  the  latter.  In  short  all  the  free-booters 
that  are  not  in  India  have  taken  to  the  highway.  The 
ladies  of  the  Bedchamber  dare  not  go  to  the  Queen  at 
Kew  in  the  evening.  The  lane  between  me  and  the 
Thames  is  the  only  safe  road  I  know  at  present,  for  it  is 
up  to  the  middle  of  the  horses  in  water." 

Walpole  was  himself  robbed  by  Maclean  "the  gentle- 
man highwayman,"  who  excused  his  condudl  by  saying 
that  he  had  that  morning  been  "  disappointed  of 
marrying  a  great  fortune."  Maclean  was  a  poor  high- 
wayman, but  possessing  a  good  figure  and  fine  clothes, 
he  sought  industriously  for  an  heiress,  and  then  in 
despair  took  to  "the  road."  On  June  26th,  1750,  Maclean 

^  It  is  on  Gadshill  that  Falstaff  and  his  companions  rob  the 
travellers  in  King  Henry  IV.  Act  II.  Scene  II. 


i66  THE   COACHING   ERA 

and  his  accomplice,  Plunkett,  robbed  the  Salisbury- 
stage-coach  on  Turnham  Green.  Amongst  the  booty 
they  took  a  trunk  of  fine  clothes  belonging  to  one  of 
the  passengers,  and  these  Maclean  sold  on  his  return 
to  London.  The  rightful  owner  of  them,  however, 
promptly  advertised  his  loss,  which  resulted  in  their 
recovery,  and  the  arrest  of  the  highwayman  at  his 
fashionable  lodgings  in  St.  James's  Street.  Maclean 
indignantly  asked:  "What  should  a  gentleman  like  my- 
self know  of  highway  robbery?"  A  blunderbuss,  twenty- 
three  purses  and  other  stolen  property  supplied  adequate 
answer,  despite  the  faft  that  several  society  ladies  gave 
witness  as  to  the  integrity  of  the  "captain's"  charadler. 

All  fashionable  London  flocked  to  see  the  captured 
highwayman  in  his  cell.  The  first  Sunday  after  his 
imprisonment  he  had  three  thousand  visitors  according 
to  Horace  Walpole,  who  says:  "The  chief  personages 
who  have  been  to  comfort  and  weep  over  the  fallen  hero 
are  Lady  Caroline  Petersham  and  Miss  Ashe — I  call 
them  "Polly"  and  "Lucy,"  and  ask  them  if  he  did  not 
sing:  "Thus  I  stand  like  the  Turk  with  his  doxies 
around?  " 

Polly  and  Lucy  were  two  charafters  in  the  popular 
Beggar^s  Opera  which  Gay  had  written  to  poke  fun 
at  highwaymen.  When  it  was  finished  Congreve  said: 
"It  will  either  take  greatly  or  be  damned  confoundedly." 
It  proved  an  instant  success,  so  much  so  that  the 
Bow  Street  magistrates  endeavoured  to  get  it  sup- 
pressed on  the  grounds  that  its  continued  produdlion 
would  tend  to  increased  highway  robbery. 


HIGHWAYMEN  167 

Undoubtedly  there  were  romantic  young  ladies  who 
would  have  been  prodigiously  thrilled  if  robbed  by  a 
fashionably  dressed  highwayman,  but  others,  like  Lady 
Walpole's  friend.  Lady  Browne,  had  greater  regard  for 
their  own  property: 

"Lady  Browne  and  I  were,  as  usual,  going  to  the 
Duchess  of  Montrose's  at  seven  o'clock.  The  evening 
was  dark.  In  the  close  lane,  under  the  park  pale,  and 
within  twenty  yards  of  the  gate,  a  black  figure  pushed 
by  between  the  chaise  and  the  hedge  on  my  side.  I 
suspefted  it  was  a  highwayman,  and  so,  I  found,  did 
Browne,  for  she  was  speaking,  and  stopped.  To  divert 
her  fears  I  was  going  to  say,  'Is  not  that  the  apothecary 
going  to  the  Duchess  ?'  when  I  heard  a  voice  cry  'Stop!' 
and  then  the  figure  came  back  to  the  chaise.  I  had  the 
presence  of  mind  before  I  let  down  the  glass,  to  take 
out  my  walet  and  stuff  it  within  my  dress  under  the 
arm.  He  said: 

'Your  purses  and  walets?' 

'I  have  no  walet,'  I  replied. 

'Then  your  purse.' 

I  gave  it  to  him;  it  had  nine  guineas  in  it.  It 
was  so  dark  that  I  could  not  see  his  hand,  but  I  felt 
him  take  it.  He  then  asked  for  Lady  Browne's  purse, 
and  said, 

'Don't  be  frightened,  I  will  not  hurt  you.' 

'No,  you  won't  frighten  the  lady,'  I  said. 

'No,  I  give  you  my  word  I  will  not  hurt  you,'  he 
replied. 

Lady  Browne  gave  him  her  purse,  and  was  going  to 
add  her  walet;  but  he  said, 

'I  am  much  obliged  to  you;  I  wish  you  good-night,' 
he  pulled  off  his  hat,  and  rode  away. 


i68  THE   COACHING  ERA 

'Well,'  said  I,  'you  will  not  be  afraid  of  being  robbed 
another  time,  for,  you  see  there  is  nothing  in  it.' 

'Oh!  but  I  am,'  said  she,  'and  now  I  am  in  terror 
lest  he  return,  for  I  have  given  him  a  purse  with  bad 
money  in  it,  that  I  carry  on  purpose.'" 

Jack  Ovet,  the  son  of  a  shoemaker,  considered  his 
prospers  as  highwayman  so  bright  that  he  had  the 
presumption  to  ask  a  lady  to  join  them.  He  saw,  and 
fell  instantly  in  love  with  her  when,  in  pursuit  of  his 
calling,  he  stopped  the  Worcester  stage-coach.  His 
infatuation  did  not  prevent  his  robbing  the  lady  of 
twenty  guineas,  though  he  protested  that  he  only  wished 
to  borrow  them,  and  would  return  them  if  she  would 
favour  him  with  her  address.  This  she  did  and  soon 
afterwards  received,  not  her  stolen  property,  but  a 
bombastic  letter  from  Ovet,  in  which  he  declared  that, 
though  he  had  taken  a  few  paltry  guineas,  she  had 
committed  a  far  greater  robbery,  for  she  had  stolen  his 
heart.  This  he  valued  considerably  higher  than  did  the 
objedt  of  his  affeftions,  who  replied  with  a  letter  which 
was  calculated  to  pierce  even  a  highwayman's  self 
esteem: 

"You  have  broken  your  word,  in  not  sending  me  what 
you  villainously  took  from  me;  but,  not  valuing  that, 
let  me  tell  you,  for  fear  you  should  have  too  great  a 
conceit  of  yourself,  that  you  are  the  first  to  my  recol- 
lection whom  I  ever  hated;  and  sealing  my  hatred  with 
the  hopes  of  quickly  reading  your  dying  speech,  in  case 
you  die  in  London,  I  presume  to  subscribe  myself, — 
Yours  never  to  command."^ 

^  Lives  of  the  Highwaymen.  Johnson. 


HIGHWAYMEN  169 

One  woman  possessed  of  a  ready  wit  discovered  an 
ingenious  way  out  of  a  difficult  situation.  She  was 
travelling  from  Gloucester  to  London,  and  at  Braintree 
the  coachman  warned  her  that  there  were  some  sus- 
picious looking  charafters  ahead,  and  he  was  more  than 
half  inclined  to  think  they  were  highwaymen.  In  this 
supposition  he  was  right,  for  Nicholas  Horner,  one  of 
the  bright  particular  stars  of  his  calling,  rode  up  and 
commanded  the  coachman  to  stop.  Almost  before  this 
request  could  be  complied  with,  the  lady,  with  her  hair 
hanging  wildly  about  her,  jumped  out  of  the  coach 
crying:  "Oh,  Cousin  Tom,  dear  Cousin  Tom,  save  me." 
Seizing  the  astonished  highwayman  by  the  leg,  she 
implored  him  to  rescue  her  from  the  coachman,  who,  so 
she  said,  was  taking  her  to  Bedlam  by  her  husband's  orders. 

Horner,  considerably  taken  aback,  declared  that 
he  was  no  cousin  of  hers,  and  that  mad  she  most  un- 
doubtedly was,  and  Bedlam  the  best  place  for  her.  At 
this  the  lady  wept  and  clung  to  him  the  more  desper- 
ately, declaring  that  she  would  go  with  her  dear  Cousin 
Tom,  and  that  she  would  not  go  to  Bedlam. 

Horner  wished  himself  well  out  of  the  business, 
and  appealed  to  the  coachman  who  played  up  to  his 
lady  nobly,  saying  that  he  was  ordered  to  take  her  to  a 
madhouse,  though  not  to  Bedlam.  Horner  told  the 
coachman  to  take  her  there,  and,  wrenching  himself 
free  of  the  lady's  restraining  arms,  put  spurs  to  his  horse 
and  galloped  off,  whilst  she  got  into  the  coach,  did  up 
her  hair,  and  took  the  jewels  and  money  from  their 
hiding-place  beneath  the  cushions. 


lyo  THE   COACHING  ERA 

Passengers  by  stage-coach  generally  talked  highway- 
men, thought  highwaymen,  dreamed  highwaymen,  and 
saw  a  highwayman  behind  every  tree,  so  that,  when  the 
travellers  on  a  certain  journey,  having  been  jolted  into 
intimacy,  began  on  their  favourite  topic,  a  gentleman 
confided  to  them  that  he  had  ten  guineas  in  his  pocket 
and  was  very  anxious  to  keep  them  in  his  own  possession. 
A  lady  thereupon  said  that  if  such  was  his  desire  he  had 
better  put  them  in  his  boot.  He  accepted  the  advice 
thankfully  and  immediately  did  so.  A  few  minutes 
later  the  coach  halted  abruptly,  and  a  masked  highway- 
man put  his  head  in  at  the  window  and  commanded  an 
instant  transfer  of  purses.  The  passengers  sat  petrified, 
while  the  gentleman  with  the  gold  in  his  boot  thought 
complacently  that  it  was  safe.  On  this  score  he  was 
rudely  disillusioned,  for  he  could  scarcely  believe  his 
ears  when  the  lady  who  had  recommended  the  hiding- 
place  calmly  told  the  robber  to  look  in  the  gentleman's 
boot. 

The  highwayman  promptly  commanded  all  present 
to  remove  their  boots,  a  proceeding  delicately  referred 
to  in  the  vernacular  of  the  road  as  "shelling  the  peas." 
He  took  the  money  thus  revealed  and  departed. 

The  coach  proceeded,  and  the  luckless  gentleman, 
bewailing  the  loss  of  his  ten  guineas,  relieved  himself 
by  telling  the  lady  his  plain  unvarnished  opinion  of  her. 
She  owned  that  the  case  looked  black,  but  declared  she 
could  clear  herself  if  all  present  would  come  and  dine 
with  her  next  day.  The  company,  after  some  indecision 
agreed  to  do  this,  and  the  following  day  they  were 


HIGHWAYMEN  171 

shown  into  a  magnificent  dining-room,  and  entertained 
to  a  sumptuous  repast.  At  the  end  of  the  meal  the 
hostess  produced  a  pocket-book,  and  turning  to  the 
man  who  had  been  robbed  said:  "In  this  book,  sir,  are 
bank  notes  to  the  amount  of  a  thousand  pounds.  I 
thought  it  better  for  you  to  lose  ten  guineas  than  me 
this  valuable  property,  which  I  had  with  me  last  night. 
As  you  have  been  the  means  of  my  saving  it,  I  entreat 
your  acceptance  of  this  bank-bill  of  one  hundred 
pounds." 

One  highwayman  appears  to  have  carried  his  gentility 
to  excess,  for  he  is  thus  described  in  the  newspapers: 

-  "On  Friday  morning  last  a  young  highwayman 
genteelly  dressed,  attended  by  an  accomplice  dressed 
in  livery,  robbed  several  of  the  early  northern  stages 
near  Holloway,  and  took  from  the  passengers  a  con- 
siderable booty." 

Another  member  of  the  same  calling  introduced  an 
even  more  original  touch  into  the  business,  for  he  would 
approach  the  coach  with  a  loaded  blunderbuss  in  one 
hand,  and  a  dead  rabbit  in  the  other.  Then,  when  the 
terrified  passengers  looked  at  his  masked  countenance 
with  their  eyes  nearly  starting  out  of  their  heads,  he 
held  up  the  rabbit — and  the  blunderbuss — remarking 
in  the  most  dulcet  tones:  "Gentlemen,  will  you  buy  my 
rabbit?"  which  request  coming  from  such  an  unex- 
pected quarter  nearly  paralysed  his  vi (Slims.  When 
sufficiently  recovered  to  find  their  tongues,  they  re- 
marked quaveringly  that  they  one  and  all  had  an  un- 


172  THE   COACHING  ERA 

conquerable  aversion  to  rabbits.  The  highwayman  in  a 
fury  shouted  out:  "But  you  must  and  shall  buy  my 
rabbit";  and  buy  they  did  at  a  most  uncommonly  high 
price. 

The  fear  the  highwayman  inspired  was  extraordinary, 
for,  though  coaches  might  be  filled  with  passengers 
armed  to  the  teeth,  it  was  exceedingly  rare  for  a  high- 
wayman to  meet  with  any  resistance.  At  the  word  of 
command  travellers  instantly  put  down  their  blunder- 
buss and  sought  wildly  for  their  purses.  Many  highway- 
men, knowing  this,  did  not  trouble  to  load  their  pistols, 
relying  on  their  telling  appearance,  and  their  own  black 
masks  to  carry  the  matter  through  successfully.  One 
robber  boasted  that  he  never  used  weapons,  and  his 
pistol  was,  in  fa6l,  nothing  but  a  pewter  candlestick, 
which  could  be  pointed  with  gratifying  success  on  a  dark 
night. 

A  Huntingdon  horse-keeper  robbed  the  Peterborough 
coach  with  the  same  deadly  instrument,  but  his  con- 
fidence in  it  was  not  fulfilled,  for  when  he  attempted  the 
same  high-handed  proceeding  with  the  Stamford  Fly 
the  guard  had  the  presence  of  mind  to  fire  off  his 
blunderbuss.  The  wounded  highwayman  horse-keeper 
was  carried  into  Huntingdon  to  the  astonishment  of 
the  inhabitants,  who  had  known  him  only  as  a  creditable 
and  law  abiding  citizen. 

Anthony  Wood,  too,  in  his  diary  tells  how  in  1692 
a  stage  waggon  was  robbed  near  Gerrard's  Cross,  by  a 
gang  of  highwaymen,  "of  whom  Savage,  sometime  an 
Oxford  mercer,  was  one."  The  Oxford  Journal  for  1755 


HIGHWAYMEN  173 

speaks  of  a  highwayman  "Davis,  the  Tallow  Chandler," 
who  robbed  the  Cirencester  mail,  and  was  condemned 
to  be  hanged  and  his  body  hung  in  chains,  "in  some 
convenient  place  near  where  the  robbery  was  com- 
mitted." 

Many  stories,  true  and  fi6litious,  have  collefted  round 
the  personalities  of  the  most  noted  highwaymen,  but 
probably  the  one  which  appeals  most  to  the  popular 
imagination  is  the  account  of  Dick  Turpin's  fiftitious 
ride  to  York,  which  originated  in  the  inventive  genius  of 
Harrison  Ainsworth.  In  real  life  Dick  Turpin  was  a 
brutal  and,  it  is  hinted,  cowardly  ruffian,  who  never 
rode  to  York  in  one  day,  or  owned  the  celebrated  but 
mythical  Black  Bess.  Happily,  history  does  not  deprive 
us  entirely  of  the  ride  from  Gadshill  to  York;  it  was  an 
actual  performance  undertaken  by  a  highwayman  to 
prove  an  alibi,  but  the  hero  of  it  was  one  Nevison,  better 
known  as  "Swift  Nicks." 

Though  sceptics  have  thrown  grave  doubts  on  Claude 
Du  Vall's  famous  dance  on  the  heath,  they  have  not  been 
able  to  disprove  it,  so  that  the  otherwise  sordid  history 
of  highwaymen  may  be  allowed  that  one  bit  of  romance. 
Du  Vail  and  his  companions  had  received  information 
that  a  knight  with  ^£400  in  his  coach  was  travelling 
towards  them,  and  they  promptly  decided  that  before 
the  night  was  over  the  ;^400  should  have  changed  hands. 

The  knight,  like  all  who  carried  valuables  in  those 
days,  was  anything  but  easy  in  his  mind,  and  as  night 
approached  he  continually  looked  out  of  the  coach.  At 
last  he  espied  what  he  had  been  looking  for,  namely,  the 


174  THE   COACHING  ERA 

sinister  figure  of  a  horseman  evidently  waiting  for 
some  one.  The  knight  had  every  reason  to  beheve 
that  some  one  was  himself — and  his  money-bags,  and  he 
hastened  to  acquaint  his  wife  with  his  suspicion.  To 
show  that  she,  at  any  rate,  was  not  afraid  she  took  out 
her  flageolet  and  began  to  play  a  lively  air.  Apparently, 
one  of  these  instruments  was  considered  part  of  a 
fashionable  highwayman's  equipment,  for  Claude  Du 
Vail  produced  a  similar  instrument,  and  riding  up  to  the 
coach  he  bowed  low  and  asked  if  the  lady  would  honour 
him  with  a  dance. 

The  lady  finding  herself  suddenly  in  the  midst  of  such 
an  unexpefted  and  delicious  romance  assented  willingly. 
Her  husband  only  too  glad  of  anything  that  distradled 
attention  from  his  money-bags  did  nothing  to  deter 
her,  saying  to  the  highwayman:  "I  dare  not  deny  any- 
thing, sir,  to  one  of  your  quality  and  good  behaviour; 
you  seem  a  gentleman  and  your  request  is  very  reason- 
able." 

Du  Vail  then  handed  the  lady  from  her  carriage  with 
courtly  grace,  and  together  they  danced  on  the  heath, 
whilst  the  servants  looked  on  and  wondered,  and  the 
knight  thought  of  his  money-bags.  For  want  of  a  better 
orchestra,  Du  Vail  sang  the  "currant"  himself.  When 
the  performance  was  over,  and  the  lady  resumed  her 
seat,  the  knight  would  have  driven  off,  but  Du  Vail 
with  the  greatest  politeness  stopped  him  suavely.  "Sir, 
you  forget  to  pay  for  the  music." 

The  knight  took  the  delicate  hint  and  drew  out  a 
bag  containing  a  hundred  pounds.  Du  Vail  accepted  it, 


HIGHWAYMEN  175 

remarking  as  he  bowed  with  the  most  courtly  grace: 
"Sir,  you  are  liberal,  and  your  liberality  shall  excuse  you 
the  other  three  hundred  pounds." 

A  different  form  of  entertainment  was  suggested  by 
James  Whitney  and  his  followers,  for  after  they  had 
robbed  a  clergyman  of  ^10  the  humour  seized  them 
that  he  should  preach  them  a  sermon.  The  divine  rose 
to  the  occasion,  and  took  for  his  text  the  word  "Theft," 
which  was  certainly  applicable  to  his  audience,  but 
showed  great  daring  on  his  part.  His  discourse  ended 
thus:  "Let  him  that  stole  steal  no  more,  or  else  the 
letters  of  my  text  point  to  a  tragical  conclusion;  for  T, 
take  care;  H,  hanging;  E,  ends  not;  F,  felony;  T,  at 
Tyburn."  Despite  its  extreme  pointedness,  the  robbers 
approved  of  the  sermon,  and  declaring  that  the  preacher 
deserved  his  fee  presented  him  with  los.  out  of  his  ;^io. 

Ned  Wicks  made  a  strange  proposition  to  one  of 
his  viftims,  for  when  he  stopped  Lord  Mohun  with 
the  usual  polite  formula  of  "Damee  stand  and  deliver," 
his  lordship  replied  with  such  a  string  of  profanities 
that  Wicks,  who  was  no  mean  performer  in  that  line 
himself,  was  quite  taken  aback.  A  man  with  such  a 
command  of  language  was  quite  out  of  the  common 
run  and  entitled  to  any  highwayman's  respect.  With  a 
view  to  ascertaining  who  was  the  most  proficient  in  the 
gentle  art  of  swearing,  Wicks  proposed  they  should 
have  a  swearing  match  for  a  bet  of  £^0,  Lord  Mohun's 
groom  to  aft  as  judge. 

The  preliminaries  settled,  they  fell  to,  and  for  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  they  swore  in  a  way  that  fairly 


176  THE   COACHING   ERA 

astonished  each  other.  Then  the  groom  was  asked  who 
had  acquitted  himself  the  best,  and  gave  his  vote  in 
favour  of  the  highwayman,  saying:  "Why,  my  lord, 
your  honour  swears  as  well  as  ever  I  heard  any  gentle- 
man of  quality  in  my  life,  but  indeed,  to  give  the  strange 
gentleman  his  due,  he  has  done  better  than  yourself, 
and  has  won  the  wager  if  it  was  for  a  thousand  pounds." 

The  introduftion  of  the  mail-coaches  spoilt  "the  high 
Toby  profession,"  but  did  not  entirely  ruin  it.  Dr. 
Routh,  President  of  Magdalen  College,  Oxford,  from 
1791  to  1854,  could  remember  seeing  an  execution. 
In  reply  to  questions  he  would  say:  "What,  sir,  do  you 
tell  me,  sir,  that  you  never  heard  of  Gownsman's 
Gallows?  Why,  I  tell  you,  sir,  that  I  have  seen  two 
undergraduates  hanged  on  Gownsman's  Gallows  in 
Holywell — hanged,  sir,  for  highway  robbery!"  As  late 
as  1840  newspapers  came  out  with  such  headlines  as: 
"Notorious  highwaymen  taken,"  but  in  such  instances 
the  highwayman  had  degenerated  into  footpads  or 
robbers,  feeble  imitations  of  their  dashing  forerunners. 

The  "gentlemen  of  the  road"  led  a  life  crowded  with 
incident  and  excitement,  but  their  careers  were  not  of 
long  duration;  after  a  few  years  came  the  inevitable 
end:  a  bullet  aimed  by  an  unusually  courageous 
traveller;  a  wild  flight  across  country  with  the  officers 
of  the  law  in  hot  pursuit;  a  gallant  horse  shot  dead.  A 
crowded  trial,  and  sentence  to  death. 

Bold  and  desperate  to  the  last,  they  kept  a  gay  atti- 
tude. Dressed  in  the  height  of  fashion  they  received 
visitors  of  all  ranks  of  society.  Even  on  the  last  journey 


HIGHWAYMEN  177 

to  Tyburn  they  laughed  and  joked,  bowed  to  the  crowd, 
and  went  boldly  and  unflinchingly  to  their  death.  ^ 

When  the  last  grim  rites  were  over,  their  bodies 
were  cut  down,  and  often  hung  in  chains  in  conspicuous 
places  on  the  roads  where  they  had  robbed  during  their 
lives,  so  that  the  dismal  spe6lacle  might  deter  others 
from  following  in  their  footsteps,  and,  incidentally, 
constitute  a  terror  to  belated  travellers.  ^ 

^  Executions  were  looked  upon  as  a  species  of  public  entertain- 
ment. In  Ingoldsby  Legends^  Lord  Tomnoddy,  inquiring  of 
Tiger  Tim,  "What  may  a  nobleman  find  to  do?"  received  reply: 
"An't  please  you,  my  lord,  there's  man  to  be  hanged." 

2  Mrs.  Anne  and  I  rode  under  a  man  that  hangs  upon  Shooters 
Hill,  and  a  filthy  sight  it  was  to  see  how  his  flesh  is  shrunk  to  his 
bones.  Pefys's  Diary ^  April  11,  1661. 


12 


CHAPTER  XII  THE  AMATEURS 

CHARLES  I  appears  to  have  been  the  first 
English  Amateur  to  drive  a  coach  and  four, 
but  of  his  exploits  we  know  nothing  beyond 
a  brief  mention  of  the  faft  in  a  poem  of  the 
Commonwealth,  wherein  is  said: 

"And  what  distradion  for  the  reputation 

Of  Prince  is  that  manly  recreation 

More  now,  or  then  it  was,  when  Charles  of  late 

For  his  disport  upon  the  coach-box  sate 

(As  many  times  he  did)  and  not  disdain 

To  let  inferiors  ride  in  Charles's  Wain." 

The  occasion  for  the  above  lines  was  the  famous 
coaching  accident  which  occurred  to  Oliver  Cromwell 
when  he  aspired  to  the  box-seat.  The  Lord  Prote61:or, 
having  received  a  present  of  six  grey  coach  horses, 
decided  to  make  trial  of  them  on  September  29th, 
1654,  when  accompanied  by  Thurloe,  his  secretary, 
and  a  few  other  gentlemen  he  drove  in  state  to  Hyde 
Park.  Presumably  they  made  a  merry  jaunt  of  it,  for 
Cromwell  "caused  some  dishes  of  meat  to  be  brought, 
when  he  made  his  dinner. ■"•  The  repast  finished,  the 
Protestor  had  a  great  desire  to  drive  the  coach  himself, 
and  therefore  mounted  the  box. 

Cromwell's   friends   had   apparently  no   great   faith 

in  his  coachmanship,  for  his  secretary  alone  ventured 

himself    as    inside    passenger.  The    Prote6lor    "drove 

pretty  handsomely  for  some  time,"  but  the  horses  not 

^  Thurloe's  StaU  Papers. 
178 


THE   AMATEURS  179 

going  fast  enough  to  please  him  he  used  his  whip,  which 
they  resented,  "and  run  so  fast"  that  he  was  flung  from 
his  seat  and,  catching  his  foot  in  part  of  the  harness, 
dragged  some  distance.  To  make  his  situation  the  more 
perilous,  a  pistol  "went  off  in  his  pocket,"  so  that  it  is 
surprising  to  find  that  he  escaped  with  but  little  hurt, 
and  after  being  taken  home  and  let  blood  was  soon  well 
again.  Thurloe,  who  jumped  from  the  coach,  injured 
his  ankle,  and  kept  his  room  for  some  days,  "so  that  we 
have  not  been  able  to  further  or  expedite  any  business 
this  week,"  wrote  the  Dutch  Ambassador. 

Enemies  of  the  Protedlorate  openly  expressed  their 
regret  that  the  accident  had  not  terminated  fatally. 
This  is  what  they  said  of  it  in  Paris:  "Sir — We  hear  of  a 
misfortune  befallen  the  Lord  Protedlorate,  for  playing 
the  coachman.  He  had  better  have  sat  in  his  chair  in 
the  painted  chamber  to  govern  the  Parliament,  which  is 
more  pliable  to  his  pleasure,  than  in  the  coach-box  to 
govern  his  coach  horses,  which  have  more  courage  to  put 
him  out  of  the  box,  than  the  three  hundred  Members 
of  Parliament  have  to  put  him  out  of  his  chair." 

Poets,  Royalists,  and  Parliamentarians  alike,  rushed 
into  print  on  the  subject,  drawing  morals  widely  diver- 
gent, according  to  their  political  opinions.  Supporters 
of  the  Commonwealth  professed  to  see  in  the  accident 
a  case  of  miraculous  intervention: 

"When  he  did  fall,  was  it  not  won'drous  well 
That  from  his  seat,  into  God's  arms  he  fell? 
And  that,  he  falling,  fell  not  in  such  wise 
As  they,  who  rise  to  faU;  but  fell  to  rise." 


i8o  THE   COACHING   ERA 

Royalists,  as  might  be  expefted,  found  a  very  different 
inference;  in  their  eyes  the  accident  clearly  foretold 
Cromwell's  ultimate  fall  from  his  high  estate: 

"His  first  reproach 

Is  a  fall  from  a  coach 

And  his  last  will  be  from  a  cart."^ 

Mythology  was  adduced  as  evidence  on  both  sides. 
Cromwell's  supporters  cited  Hippolytus  whose  horses 
took  fright  at  Neptune's  sea  calves,  thus  showing  that 
accidents  were  unavoidable  and  no  slur  on  coachmanship. 
Royalists  compared  Cromwell  to  Phaeton,  who  having 
no  experience  of  horsemanship,  aspired  to  drive  the 
chariot  of  the  sun,  with  disastrous  results. 

John  Cleaveland,  the  Royalist,  wrote  a  none  too 
complimentary  poem  called  "The  Coachman  of  St. 
James!" 

I'm  pleased  to  fancy  how  the  glad  compa6l 

Of  Hackney  coachmen  sneer  at  the  last  aft. 

Hark  how  the  scoffing  concourse  hence  derives 

The  Proverb  'Needs  must  go  when  th'  devil  drives!' 

Yonder  a  whipster  cries,  "tis  a  plain  case 

He  turned  us  out  to  put  himself  in  th'  place; 

But  God-a-mercy  horses  once  for  aye 

Stood  to't  and  turned  him  out  as  well  as  we.' 

Another  not  behind  then  with  his  mocks 

Cries  out — 'Sir,  faith  you  were  in  the  wrong  box.' 

^  Criminals  were  taken  to  the  gallows  in  a  cart,  which,  after 
the  rope  was  adjusted,  moved  on  and  left  them  hanging. 


THE   AMATEURS  i8i 

He  did  presume  to  rule  because  forsooth 

He'd  been  a  Horse  Commander  from  his  youth; 

But  he  must  know  there's  difference  in  the  reins 

Of  horses  fed  with  oats,  and  fed  with  grains. 

I  wonder  at  his  frolic,  for  to  be  sure 

Four  pampered  coach  horses  can  fling  a  brewer;^ 

But  pride  will  have  a  fall,  such  the  world's  course  is 

He  that  can  rule  three  realms,  can't  guide  four  horses. 

See  him  that  trampled  thousands  in  their  gore. 

Dismounted  by  a  party  led  of  four. 

But  we  have  done  with't,  and  we  may  him  call 

This  driving  Jehu,  Phaeton  his  fall; 

I  would  to  God  for  these  three  kingdom's  sake 

His  neck  and  not  the  whip  had  given  the  crack." 

Cromwell's  upset  seems  to  have  checked  coaching 
enthusiasm,  for  it  is  not  till  the  close  of  the  eighteenth 
century  that  amateur  coaching  became  fashionable. 
Mr.  John  Warde,  the  Kentish  squire  of  fox  hunting 
fame,  rediscovered  the  sport  of  the  four-in-hand,  when, 
for  the  sheer  delight  of  the  thing,  he  often  took  the  place 
of  the  professional  coachmen  on  the  Gloucester  old 
stage  or  the  Birmingham  Prince  of  Wales.  It  was  owing 
to  his  persistent  representation  of  the  discomforts  of 
the  box-seat  that  Telegraph  springs  were  first  added, 
and  the  way  of  the  "Amateurs"  made  easy  in  more  ways 
than  one. 

Once  introduced  as  a  sport,  coaching  became  all  the 
rage,  and  to  drive  a  four-in-hand  was  considered 
essential  for  a  man  of  fashion.  To  attain  proficiency  in 

^  Cromwell  was  popularly  but  erroneously  supposed  to  have 
started  life  as  a  brewer. 


i82  THE   COACHING   ERA 

the  art,  the  young  bloods  of  the  day  went  to  the  pro- 
fessional coachmen  for  tuition,  and  tried  their  prentice 
hands  on  the  public  coaches.  The  public,  not  unreason- 
ably, resented  this,  and  passengers  would  obje6l  if  the 
reins  were  given  to  anyone  but  the  rightful  driver. 

The  professional  coachmen  took  their  work  of  tuition 
seriously,  they  were  stridl  masters  and  merciless  critics, 
as  may  be  gathered  from  an  article  which  appeared 
in  the  New  Sporting  Magazine,  by  a  pupil  of  Old  Bill 
Williams,  driver  of  the  Oxford  Defiance: 

"Never  by  any  chance — confound  him!— would  he 
allow  an  error  or  an  ungraceful  a61:  to  pass  unnoticed, 
and  I  have  often  got  off  his  box  so  annoyed  at  his  merci- 
less reproofs  and  ledlures  that  I  vowed  no  power  on 
earth  should  make  me  touch  another  rein  for  him.  The 
first  morning,  in  particular,  that  I  was  with  him,  I  shall 
never  forget.  In  spite  of  all  my  remonstrances,  nothing 
would  satisfy  him,  but  I  must  take  the  reins  from  the 
door  of  the  very  office,  at  the  Belle  Sauvage,  he  himself 
getting  up  behind,  in  order  as  he  said  not  'to  fluster 
the  young  'un.'  By  great  good  luck  we  got  pretty  well 
into  the  street,  and  without  anything  worth  telling,  for 
some  way  past  Temple  Bar;  but,  as  my  evil  star  would 
have  it,  the  narrow  part  of  the  Strand  was  uncommonly 
full,  and  having  rather  an  awkward  team,  and  being, 
moreover,  in  a  particular  stew,  we  had  more  than  one 
squeak  at  sundry  posts,  drays,  etc.  Still  not  one  word 
was  uttered  by  the  Artist,  though  by  this  time  he  had 
scrambled  in  front,  till  after  a  devil  of  a  mistake  in 
turning  into  the  Haymarket,  he  touched  my  arm  very 
civilly,  with  a  'pull  up  if  you  please,  sir,  by  that  empty 
coal  cart.'  I  did  so;  at  least  as  well  as  I  could — and 


THE   AMATEURS  183 

found,  to  my  utter  horror  that  it  was  for  the  purpose  of 
his  requesting  the  grinning  black-a-moor  that  belonged 
to  it  ''to  lend  him  some  six  or  seven  sacks  to  take  the  drag 
home,  for,'  said  he,  '/  am  sure  the  gentleman  zvonH  take  it 
up  to  the  Gloucester  Coffee  House  a  coach P'''^ 

Amateurs  driving  the  coaches  were  not  always  recog- 
nized and,  in  consequence,  received  the  "tips"  intended 
for  the  professional  coachmen,  circumstances  which 
afforded  them  much  joy,  and  they  never  tired  of  relating 
how  they  had  been  "tipped  a  bob,  and  returned  a  bow." 

Sir  St.  Vincent  Cotton,  a  gifted  amateur,  eventually 
joined  the  ranks  of  the  professionals,  and  drove  one  of  the 
Brighton  coaches  for  a  living,  for  so  great  was  his  pro- 
pensity for  gambling  that  he  ran  through  two  large 
fortunes. 

A  chara6leristic  story  is  told  of  how  one  evening  when 
he  and  his  friends  were  at  dinner  they  found  some 
maggots  among  the  nuts.  Anything  able  to  run  or  crawl 
could,  in  their  eyes,  be  made  the  subjedl  of  a  bet,  and 
they  instantly  instituted  a  maggot  race  on  the  result  of 
which  the  odds  ran  high.  The  maggots  were  ranged  in 
a  line,  their  backers  provided  with  needles  to  spur  them 
on.  The  starter  gave  the  word,  and  the  race  began  amid 
uproarious  excitement.  Sir  St.  Vincent's  maggot  was 
the  favourite,  and  seemed  safe  to  win,  but  the  baronet 
to  urge  it  to  fresh  endeavours  pricked  it  so  vehemently 
with  his  needle,  that  it  suddenly  curled  up  and  refused 
to  move,  so  that  a  rank  outsider  crept  up  and  won, 
whereby,  so  it  is  said.  Sir  St.  Vincent  lost  ^30,000. 

Another  famous  amateur  on  the  Brighton  road  was 


i84  THE   COACHING  ERA 

Mr.  Stevenson,  better  known  as  the  "Cambridge 
Graduate,"  who  drove  the  Age,  for  "his  passion  for  the 
bench  got  the  better  of  all  other  ambitions,  and  he 
became  a  coachman  hy  profession." 

The  Age,  the  best  appointed  coach  of  its  time,  in 
place  of  a  guard  carried  liveried  servants,  whose  duty 
it  was  to  wait  on  the  passengers  offering  them  sand- 
wiches and  sherry  when  the  coach  changed  horses.  Mr. 
Stevenson  got  plenty  of  fun  out  of  his  coach,  but  as  a 
business  speculation  it  was  condu6led  on  too  lavish 
lines  to  be  successful. 

Stevenson's  career  ended  tragically  soon,  and  when 
dying  of  brain  fever  he  asked  those  near  to  lift  him  up  in 
bed,  then  sitting  in  his  usual  attitude  on  the  box,  he 
imagined  himself  once  more  on  the  Age,  and  calling 
out,  "Let  them  go,  George,  I've  got  'em,"  fell  back  and 
expired. 

Among  others  who  drove  regularly  on  the  stage- 
coaches were  Mr.  Richard  Backenbury,  who  with  some 
friends  put  the  Taglioni  on  the  Windsor  road,  and 
tooled  the  piebald  teams  himself;  and  the  then  Marquis 
of  Worcester  (well  known  on  the  Brighton  road),  in 
whose  honour  the  Hon.  Martin  Hawke  wrote  the  follow- 
ing song,  which  appeared  in  the  Sporting  Magazine 
for  1840: 

The  Criterion  Coach 

As  quick  as  thought,  there  see  approach, 

Swift  glancing  down  the  road, 
The  dashing  gay  Criterion  coach. 
With  in  and  outside  load. 


THE   AMATEURS  185 

'Tis  Worcester's  Lord  who  drives  the  team, 

Thorough-bred,  or  near  it, 
Of  all  the  talents,  he's  the  cream — 

Upset?  who  can  fear  it? 

And  now  they  change,  and  off  again 

Under  half  a  minute; 
So  just  each  trace,  so  true  each  rein, 

Really  magic's  in  it! 

Like  bright  Japan  the  harness  shines 

All  chosen  and  seleft; 
The  brass — like  famed  Potosi's  mines 

A  mirror  to  refleft. 

And  mark  the  flowers  on  each  head — 

The  rose  and  lily  fair 
Around  us  all  their  fragrance  shed, 

Embalm  the  morning  air! 

The  well-shaped  yew,  the  tapering  thong, 

Proclaimed  the  workman's  art; 
But  as  the  blood  ones  dash  along. 

They  feel  no  useless  smart. 

Oh  no!  he  tries  each  supple  rein 

To  check  their  eager  speed 
Strong  is  the  hand  that  can  restrain 

Each  noble  well-bred  steed. 

Here  is  all  life,  excitement,  joy. 

Our  troubles  left  behind. 
No  cares  our  pleasure  to  destroy. 

Our  sorrows  to  the  wind. 


i86  THE   COACHING  ERA 

The  hunter  boasts  his  gallant  steed 

That  flies  o'er  hill  and  dale, 
But  we  can  best  his  fastest  speed, 

And  tell  a  brighter  tale. 

We've  no  blank  days,  no  wants  of  scent, 

To  check  our  forward  course; 
Fresh  teams  await  when  this  is  spent. 

This  beats  his  second  horse. 

And  hark!  the  bugle  sounds  alarms 

Thro'  every  country  place, 
The  village  beauties  show  their  charms. 

Displaying  every  grace. 

Then  here's  my  toast,  and  fill  it  up, 

"Success  the  road  attend!" 
And  he  that  will  not  pledge  the  cup 

To  talent  is  no  friend! 

Lord  Onslow,  a  good  whip  but  of  great  eccentricity, 
had  his  coach  painted  black,  and  drawn  by  four  magni- 
ficent black  horses,  the  whole  turn-out  being  strongly 
reminiscent  of  a  hearse.  He  was  the  subject  of  many 
quibs  and  caricatures,  one  of  which  ran: 

"What  can  Tommy  Onslow  do? 
He  can  drive  a  curricle  and  two. 
Can  Tommy  Onslow  do  no  more? 
Yes,  he  can  drive  a  coach  and  four." 


Amateurs  who  delighted  in  a  four-in-hand,  but  did 
not  desire  to  displace  the  professional  coachmen,  formed 
among  themselves  a  driving  Club.  This  was  the  famous 
Benson  Driving  Club  popularly  called  the  B.D.C., 
instituted  in  1807,  and  which  continued  till  1853. 


THE   AMATEURS  187 

There  were  twenty-five  members  who  drove  twice 
a  year  to  the  White  Hart  at  Benson  in  Oxfordshire — 
fifty-six  miles — where  they  dined,  and  twice  to  the 
Black  Dog  at  Bedfont — fourteen  miles.  From  the  names 
of  the  two  inns,  the  B.D.C.  was  nicknamed  the  Black 
and  White  Club. 

Song  of  the  B.D.C. 

You  ask  me  gents  to  sing  a  song, 

Don't  think  me  too  encroaching, 
I  won't  detain  you  very  long, 

With  one  of  mine  on  coaching. 
No  rivalry  have  we  to  fear. 

Nor  jealous  need  we  be,  sir. 
We  all  are  friends  who  muster  here. 

And  in  the  B.D.C,  sir. 

Horace  declares  the  Greeks  of  old. 

Were  once  a  driving  nation; 
But  Shakespeare  says  "The  World's  a  stage" 

A  cutish  observation. 
The  stage  he  meant,  good  easy  man. 

Was  drawn  by  nine  old  Muses; 
But  the  Muse  for  me  is  the  B.D.C. 

And  that's  the  stage  I  chooses. 

I  call  this  age  the  iron  age 

Of  Railways  and  Pretension, 
And  coaching  now  is  in  a  stage 

Of  horrible  declension. 
The  days  gone  by  when  on  the  Fly 

We  rolled  to  Alma  Mater, 
And  jovial  took  the  reins  in  hand 

Of  the  Times  or  Regulator. 


i88  THE   COACHING   ERA 

Those  were  the  days  when  Peytons  grays 

To  Bedfont  led  the  way,  sir, 
And  Villebois  followed  with  his  bays 

In  beautiful  array,  sir. 
Then  Spicer  too,  came  next  in  view 

To  join  the  gay  procession. 
Oh!  the  dust  we  made — the  cavalcade 

Was  neat  beyond  expression. 

No  turnpike  saw  a  fancy  team 

More  neat  than  Dolphin  sported, 
When  o'er  the  stones  with  Charley  Jones 

To  Bedfont  they  resorted. 
Few  graced  the  box  as  much  as  Cox; 

But  there  were  none  I  ween,  sir, 
Who  held  the  reins  'twixt  here  and  Staines 

More  slap  up  than  the  Dean,  sir. 

Those  are  the  men  who  foremost  then 

To  coaching  gave  a  tone,  sir, 
And  hold  they  will  to  coaching  still, 

Tho'  here  they  stand  alone,  sir. 
Then  drink  to  the  coach,  the  B.D.C., 

Sir  Henry  and  his  team,  sir. 
And  may  all  be  hlozued  right  off  the  road, 

Who  wish  to  go  by  steam,  sir. 

Two  other  famous  driving  clubs  were  the  Four 
Horse  Club  founded  by  Mr.  Charles  Buxton  in  1808, 
and  the  Richmond  Driving  Club,  of  1838,  instituted  by 
Lord  Chesterfield,  who  insisted  that  the  members 
"should  drive  like  coachmen,  but  look  like  gentlemen," 
thus  pointing  the  finger  of  derision  at  many  of  the 
Amateurs  who  outcoachmaned  the  professionals  in 
manners  and  appearance. 


THE   AMATEURS  189 

The  members  of  the  Four  Horse  Club  affeded  the 
following  apparel:  "The  costume  of  each  gentleman 
consisted  of  a  bottle  green  body  coat,  a  milk  white 
double  breasted  great  coat  reaching  to  the  heels,  several 
large  capes,  and  buttons  of  mother  of  pearl,  as  large  as 
crown  pieces;  a  many  flowered  bouquet  in  a  buttonhole 
at  the  side;  upon  the  head  a  low  crowned,  broad- 
brimmed  hat,  with  a  broad  riband  and  buckle,  the  hair 
sleeked  down  under  it,  coachmanlike." 

In  the  farce  of  Hit  or  Miss,  Charles  Matthews, 
in  the  part  of  Dick  Cipher,  caricatured  coaching 
amateurs;  "belonging  to  the  honourable  neck  or  nothing, 
having  gone  through  all  the  gradations  of  buggy,  gig 
and  dog  cart,  tandom,  curricle,  unicorn  and  four-in- 
hand;  neglefted  nothing,  dashed  at  everything — pegg'd 
at  a  Jarvey — tool'd  a  mail  coach,  and  now  have  attained 
the  credit  of  being  bang  up." 

The  great  hit  of  the  piece  was  the  Bang  up  coaching 
song: 

"With  spirits  gay  I  mount  the  box,  the  tits  up  to  their  traces, 
My  elbows  squar'd,  my  wrists  turn'd  down,  dash  off  to  Epsom 

races. 
With  Buxton  bit,  bridoon  so  trim,  three  chestnuts  and  a  grey, 
Well  coupl'd  up  my  leaders  then,  ya  hip,  we  bowl  away. 
Some  push    along  with    four-in-hand,  while  others  drive  at 

random, 
In  whiskey,  buggy,  gig,  or  dog-cart,  curricle  or  tandem. 

Prime  of  life  to  go  it,  where's  a  place  like  London? 
Four-in-hand  to-day,  the  next  you  may  be  undone: 
Where  belles  as  well  as  beaux,  to  get  the  Whip  hand  strive. 
And  Mrs.  Snip  the  tailor's  wife,  can  teach  her  spouse  to  drive. 


190  THE   COACHING  ERA 

So  Jackey  Snip,  his  wife  and  all,  to  Dobbin's  back  are  strapp'd  on, 
In  one  horse  chay  to  spend  the  day,  with  neighbour  Snip  at 
Clapton. 

Some  push  along,  etc. 

Thus  'tis  with  all  who  in  London  are  striving 
Both  high  and  low  at  something  are  driving. 
A  peer  and  a  prentice  now  dress  so  much  the  same 
You  cannot  tell  the  diff'rence,  excepting  by  the  name. 
On  Epsom  Downs,  says  Billy-Zounds,  that  cannot  be  Lord  Jackey. 
Egad!  but  now  I  see  it  is — I  took  him  for  his  lackey. 

Some  push  along,  etc." 

A  foreigner  who  witnessed  the  performance  was 
immensely  taken  with  it,  and  wished  to  express  his 
appreciation  to  the  adlor,  but,  unfortunately,  he  could 
not  recall  the  name  of  the  piece.  Matthews  feigned 
ignorance  also,  and  the  foreigner  endeavoured  to  explain 
himself  by  personalities:  "Cott  (coat)  viteV  (Mr. 
Matthews  shook  his  head).  "Large  caps?  (capes).  De 
man  vis  de  large  buttons,  viteV  (still  Mr.  Matthews 
pretended  not  to  recognize  Hit  or  Miss).  "Large 
hat,  vitet  Noss-gay?"  (no  sign  of  intelligence  from  the 
aftor).  "Long  veep!  (whip).  Oh,  so  droll  at  long  veep! — 
Ah,  now  I  know,  I  recolle£l  in  French  de  nom.  It  is 
'Frappe  ou  Mademoiselle.'" 

The  literature  of  the  early  part  of  the  last  century 
made  occasional  mention  of  driving  amateurs.  In  Vanity 
Fair  Sir  Pitt  Crawley  took  Becky  Sharp  down  to  Queens 
Crawley  by  coach,  and  told  the  coachman  to  keep  the 
box-seat  for  him. 

"Yes,  Sir  Pitt,"  replied  that  worthy,  with  a  touch  of 
his  hat  and  rage  in  his  soul,  for  he  had  promised  that 


THE   AMATEURS  191 

place  to  a  young  gentleman  from  Cambridge,  who 
would  have  given  him  a  crown  to  a  certainty,  whereas 
he  knew  well  that  the  miserly  Sir  Pitt  was  not  given  to 
tipping.  The  undergraduate  was  no  better  pleased,  but 
confided  to  Becky  that  Sir  Pitt  horsed  some  of  the 
stages,  and  by  way  of  revenge  he  meant  to  take  it  out  of 
his  cattle,  saying  viciously:  "But  won't  I  flog  'em  on  to 
Squashmore,  when  I  take  the  ribbons!" 

Another  undergraduate  tooled  the  coach  when 
Arthur  Pendennis  went  to  Oxford,  "in  a  well  appointed 
coach,  filled  inside  and  out  with  dons,  gownsmen, 
young  freshmen  about  to  enter,  and  their  guardians, 
who  were  conducing  them  to  the  University.  A  fat 
old  gentleman  in  grey  stockings,  who  sat  by  Major 
Pendennis  inside  the  coach,  having  his  pale  faced  son 
opposite,  was  frightened  beyond  measure  when  he  heard 
that  the  coach  had  been  driven  a  couple  of  stages  by 
young  Mr.  Folier  of  Saint  Boniface  College." 

The  engaging  Verdant  Green,  too,  made  his  first 
appearance  at  the  University  on  the  top  of  a  coach — 
The  Royal  Defiance — and  Mr.  Green  had  the  same 
cause  for  disquietude  as  the  old  gentleman  in  grey 
stockings.  The  coach  cantered  up,  seemingly  enveloped 
in  a  cloud  of  dust,  but  which  on  close  inspeftion  proved 
to  be  "not  dust  only,  but  smoke  from  the  cigars, 
meerschaums  and  short  clay  pipes  of  a  full  complement 
of  gentlemen  passengers,  scarcely  one  of  whom  seemed 
to  have  passed  his  twentieth  year." 

Besides  pipes,  the  undergraduates  were  plentifully 
provided  with  other  things  deemed  necessary  for  their 


192  THE   COACHING  ERA 

comfort  and  well  being:  "The  passengers  were  not 
limited  to  the  two-legged  ones;  there  were  four-footed 
ones  also.  Sporting  dogs,  fancy  dogs,  ugly  dogs,  rat- 
killing  dogs,  short-haired  dogs,  long-haired  dogs,  dogs 
like  muffs,  dogs  like  mops,  dogs  of  all  colours,  and  of 
all  breeds  and  sizes,  appeared  thrusting  out  their  black 
noses  from  all  parts  of  the  coach.  Portmanteaux  were 
piled  upon  the  roof;  gun-boxes  peeped  out  suspiciously 
here  and  there;  bundles  of  sticks,  canes,  foils,  fishing- 
•ods,  and  whips  appeared  strapped  together  in  every 
diredlion;  then  all  round  the  coach, 

'Like  a  swarth  Indian  with  his  belt  of  beads,' 

hat-boxes  dangled  in  leathery  profusion.  The  Oxford 
coach,  on  an  occasion  like  this,  was  a  sight  to  be  remem- 
bered." 

"Are  you  the  two  houtside  gents  for  Hoxfut?" 
inquired  the  coachman  in  the  husky  voice  peculiar  to 
a  dram-drinker. 

Mr.  Green  replying  in  the  affirmative,  he  and  Verdant 
took  their  seats  on  the  back  part  of  the  coach. 

The  undergraduates,  "dressed  in  every  variety  of 
Oxford  fashion,  and  exhibiting  a  pleasing  diversity  of 
Oxford  manners,"  regarded  the  new-comers  critically, 
and  summed  them  up  thus: 

"Decided  case  of  governor,"  said  one. 

"Undoubted  ditto  of  freshman!"  commented  another. 

"Looks  ferociously  mild  in  his  gig-lamps,"  remarked 
a  third,  alluding  to  Verdant's  spedlacles. 

"And  jolly  green  all  over,"  wound  up  a  fourth. 


OS 

a 

en 

a 
< 
o 

as 
u 

K 


5^ 


I 


THE   AMATEURS  193 

Mr.  Green  did  not  enjoy  the  journey;  he  hated 
smoke  and  dogs,  and  had  far  too  much  of  both,  but 
when  the  undergraduate  on  the  box  took  possession  of 
the  reins  his  unhappiness  was  complete. 

The  new  driver  put  the  team  along  at  a  spanking 
pace;  started  downhill  at  a  quick  trot,  the  heavy  luggage 
causing  the  coach  to  rock  ominously;  the  trot  merged 
into  a  canter;  the  canter  broke  into  a  gallop.  Mr. 
Green's  fears  so  wrought  on  him  that  he  remonstrated 
with  the  coachman  for  suffering  "a  mere  lad,"  he  was 
about  to  say,  but  fortunately  checked  himself  in  time — 
"for  suffering  anyone  else  than  the  regular  driver  to 
have  the  charge  of  the  coach." 

The  coachman  answered  that  he  knew  his  duty  to 
himself  and  his  proprietors,  and  never  gave  up  the 
ribbons  to  anyone  "but  wot  had  showed  hisself  fitted  to 
'andle  'em.  And  I  think  I  may  say  this  for  the  genelman 
as  has  got  'em  now,  that  he's  fit  to  be  first  whip  to  the 
Queen  herself,  and  I'm  proud  to  call  him  my  poople. 
Why,  sir — if  his  honour  here  will  pardon  me  for  makin' 
60  free — this  'ere  gent  is  Four-in-Hand  Fosbrooke,  of 
which  you  must  have  heerd  on." 

Mr.  Green  replied  that  he  had  not  had  that  pleasure. 

"Ah!  a  pleasure  you  may  call  it,  sir,  with  perfeft 
truth,"  replied  the  coachman,  "but,  lor'  bless  me,  sir, 
weer  can  you  have  lived?" 

To  add  to  Mr.  Green's  discomfort  little  Mr.  Bouncer 
whiled  away  the  time  by  producing  weird  and  un- 
pleasant post-horn  effedfs,  which  he  called  "sounding  his 
odlaves;"  moreover,  he  destroyed  the  cheerful  airs 
13 


194  THE   COACHING  ERA 

played  on  the  guard's  key-bugle,  by  Joining  in  with 
his  horn  at  improper  times,  and  with  discordant  results. 

Further  cause  for  disquietude  had  Mr.  Green,  for  he 
observed  that  the  undergraduates  who  were  destined 
to  be  the  innocent  Verdant's  friends  evinced  "a  great 
capacity  for  the  beer  of  Bass,  and  the  porter  of  Guinness, 
and  were  not  averse  even  to  liquids  of  a  more  spirituous 
description.  Moreover,  Mr.  Green  remarked  that  the 
ministering  Hebes  were  invariably  addressed  by  their 
Christian  names,  and  were  familiarly  conversed  with  as 
old  acquaintances;  most  of  them  receiving  direct  offers 
of  marriage,  or  the  option  of  putting  up  the  banns  on 
any  Sunday  in  the  middle  of  the  week." 

When  Woodstock  was  reached,  Four-in-Hand  Fos- 
brooke  resigned  the  ribbons  to  the  professional  coach- 
man, whilst  Mr.  Bouncer  in  deference  to  the  scruples 
of  a  sensitive  University  put  away  his  post-horn,  and 
consoled  himself  by  chanting  the  following  song  chosen 
in  compliment  to  the  undoubted  freshness  of  Mr. 
Verdant  Green: 

"To  Oxford,  a  Freshman  so  modest, 

I  entered  one  morning  in  March; 
And  the  figure  I  cut  was  the  oddest — 

All  spedlacles,  choker  and  starch, 

Whack  fol  lol,  lol  iddity,  etc. 

From  the  top  of  the  Royal  Defiance, 

Jack  Adams,  who  coaches  so  well, 
Set  me  down  in  these  regions  of  science 

In  front  of  the  Mitre  Hotel, 

Whack  fol  lol,  lol  iddity,  etc. 


THE   AMATEURS  195 

'Sure  never  man's  prospeds  were  brighter;' 

I  said,  as  I  jump'd  from  my  perch; 
'So  quickly  arrived  at  the  Mitre, 

Oh,  I'm  sure  to  get  on  in  the  Church!' 
Whack  fol  lol,  lol  iddity,  etc. 


CHAPTER  XIII  ACCIDENTS 

THE  accidents  which  occurred  to  the  mail- 
and  stage-coaches  were  many,  and  alarm- 
ingly frequent.  When  the  railways  menaced 
the  popularity  of  the  road,  the  old  coachmen, 
with  a  calm  ignoring  of  aftual  fa6ts,  endeavoured  to 
point  out  the  terrific  dangers  of  the  new  system  by 
remarking  darkly:  "When  a  coach  upsets  there  you  are, 
but  when  a  train  upsets  where  are  you?"  This  sounded 
impressively  convincing,  but  is  scarcely  borne  out  by  a 
perusal  of  the  old  newspapers,  from  whence  it  appears 
that  though  the  most  likely  place  for  inside  passengers 
in  a  coach  accident  was  underneath  the  coach,  and  the 
"outsides"  among  the  plunging  horses,  yet  there  were 
many  other  means  whereby  passengers  could  break  their 
legs,  or  imperil  the  safety  of  their  necks.  Coaches  fell 
down  chalk-pits,  overturned  into  rivers,  were  buried 
in  snow-drifts,  ran  into  each  other,  and  capsized  in  every 
conceivable  manner. 

One  unlucky  Friday  no  less  than  four  of  the  northern 
coaches  upset,  and  the  passengers  on  the  Glasgow  mail 
had  a  miraculous  escape  when  passing  over  a  narrow 
bridge  at  Kirby  Thore.  The  night  was  dark,  the  bridge 
dangerously  narrow,  and  the  coach  going  at  full  speed. 
Just  as  the  bridge  was  reached,  one  of  the  leaders 
swerved,  the  coach  rocked,  struck  the  low  parapet, 
and  fell  right  over  into  the  river.  The  passengers 
struggled  frantically  in   the   darkness,   one   gentleman 

displaying  great  bravery,  rescued  a  lady  and  child  from 

196 


ACCIDENTS  197 

the  Inside  of  the  coach.  All  reached  land  eventually, 
but  one  of  the  horses  was  drowned,  and  the  mare  who 
had  caused  the  accident  so  badly  injured  that  she  had 
to  be  shot.  The  guard's  leg  was  hurt,  but  that  did  not 
prevent  him  going  forward  with  his  mails,  riding  one  of 
the  surviving  horses  to  Appleby,  six  and  a  half  miles 
distant.  There  he  hired  a  chaise  and  experienced  fresh 
adversity,  for  before  he  had  gone  any  distance  one  of 
the  wheels  came  off  and  he  was  thrown  out  on  to  the 
road. 

Water  in  any  form  was  the  particular  terror  of  all 
inside  passengers,  for  when  the  floods  were  out,  the 
water  frequently  came  into  the  coach,  and  obliged  the 
unhappy  "insides"  to  stand  on  the  seats  in  a  cramped 
position  necessitated  by  the  lowness  of  the  roof,  where 
they  grievously  bewailed  their  unhappy  situation  and 
expected  every  moment  to  be  drowned. 

A  great  number  of  accidents  were  caused  by  parts 
of  the  coach  being  defedlive,  or  rotten  harness  unequal 
to  any  sudden  strain.  One  of  the  wheels  of  the  Rocking- 
ham coach  came  off  with  a  suddenness  that  precipitated 
both  coachman  and  guard  on  to  the  road.  The  horses 
took  fright  and  went  off  at  full  speed,  passing  several 
waggons,  and  through  the  toll-gates  without  any 
collision,  though  the  coach  was  sometimes  sustained  by 
its  three  remaining  wheels,  and  sometimes  by  the  axle- 
tree.  The  coach  was  eventually  stopped  by  a  gentleman 
who  jumped  from  his  gig,  and  seized  the  leaders  as  they 
were  going  uphill  at  a  somewhat  less  devastating  pace. 
There  were  seven  outside  passengers  when  the  accident 


198  THE   COACHING   ERA 

happened;  five  of  them  jumped  off  the  coach  and 
sustained  serious  injuries,  whilst  the  inside  passengers 
who  retained  their  seats  escaped  unhurt. 

The  fore  axle  of  the  Worcestershire  Telegraph  broke 
at  the  bottom  of  Hanwell  hill,  and  the  coach  upset 
with  a  crash.  The  coachman  and  passengers  were  all 
seriously  injured;  two  ladies  so  badly  that  little  hope 
was  entertained  of  their  recovery.  One  gentleman, 
intrepid  by  nature,  or  callous  by  experience,  had  his 
collar-bone  broken,  but  directly  it  was  set  continued  his 
journey  by  another  coach. 

Broken  reins  were  responsible  for  what  might  have 
been  a  very  serious  accident  to  the  Bentham  mail; 
when  near  Quernmore  Park,  one  of  the  leaders  shied 
violently  and  nearly  upset  the  coach.  The  coachman 
endeavoured  to  steady  his  team,  but  the  reins  snapped, 
and  the  horses  dashed  off  at  full  gallop,  whilst  the  coach 
rocked  from  side  to  side,  and  seemed  in  imminent  danger 
of  overturning.  The  coachman  threw  himself  from  his 
box,  the  three  outside  passengers  scrambled  over  the 
roof  and  jumped  off  the  back  of  the  coach,  thereby 
sustaining  various  sprains  and  concussions.  The  turnpike 
man  saw  the  coach  coming  with  the  runaway  team  and 
no  driver,  and  promptly  shut  the  gates.  One  of  the 
leaders  jumped  the  wall  between  the  toll-house  and  the 
gates,  but  his  companions  not  being  like-minded  remained 
on  the  other  side,  and  the  coach  came  to  a  standstill. 
There  was  one  inside  passenger,  a  lady,  who  kept  her 
seat  throughout,  and  escaped  uninjured.  A  Bath 
coach  upset  at  Marlborough,  resulted  in  a  broken  leg 


ACCIDENTS  199 

apiece  for  Jack  Everett,  the  coachman,  and  a  lady- 
passenger.  Willing  helpers  placed  the  two  victims  side 
by  side  in  a  wheelbarrow  and  trundled  them  off  to  the 
nearest  dodlor.  Jack  Everett  stole  a  glance  at  his  com- 
panion. She  was  neither  young  nor  comely.  He  looked 
again.  Not  so  ill  favoured  after  all.  "I've  often  kissed 
a  young  woman,"  said  the  coachman,  "so  why  shouldn't 
I  kiss  an  old  one?"  And  kiss  her  he  did  too,  full  and  fair, 
in  the  eyes  of  all  beholders. 

Many  disasters  were  due  to  culpable  carelessness  on 
the  part  of  coachmen,  who  saw  red  when  the  opposition 
coach  came  in  sight,  and  cared  little  what  risks  they  ran 
so  long  as  they  distanced  their  hated  rival.  In  particular 
they  grudged  the  time  taken  to  put  on  the  drag,  and 
coachmen  on  speed-breaking  records  bent  would  go 
downhill  at  a  reckless  pace  trusting  on  the  wheelers  to 
hold  the  coach  back,  with  the  very  frequent  result  that 
accidents  happened,  and  bones  were  broken  instead  of 
records. 

An  accident  attributable  to  this  cause  occurred  to 
the  Halifax  Hope  in  1836,  when  the  coach  was  heavily 
laden  with  passengers  and  luggage.  The  coachman 
urged  his  horses  forward  at  a  great  rate,  and  started  to 
descend  a  steep  hill  without  moderating  his  pace.  Half- 
way down  the  horses  became  unmanageable,  the  coach 
reeled  from  side  to  side  and  finally  overturned.  The 
coachman  and  guard  were  picked  up  insensible,  two 
gentlemen  killed,  and  all  the  passengers  badly  hurt. 

The  Phoenix  and  the  Dart  entered  into  competition 
between  Patcham  and  Brighton,  the  driver  of  the  Dart 


200  THE   COACHING   ERA 

being  determined  at  all  costs  to  pass  the  Phoenix,  and 
the  coachman  of  the  Phcenix  being  equally  determined 
that  he  should  not;  the  unhappy  passengers  despaired  of 
ever  beholding  Brighton,  the  Pavilion,  or  the  Prince 
Regent  again.  The  race  ended  by  coaches,  horses, 
passengers,  and  luggage  coming  together  with  a  crash, 
and  it  was  undeniably  a  "case,"  that  being  the  polite 
term  by  which  the  coachmen  referred  to  a  thorough  bad 
upset. 

In  Nimrod's  The  Life  of  a  Sportsman^  James  Howell 
of  the  Birmingham  day  coach,  who  is  thinly  disguised 
as  Jem  Powell,  gives  an  account  of  the  heartless  behaviour 
of  an  opposition  coach: 

"A  gentleman  comes  up  to  me  t'other  day,  and 
says:  'Jem,  what  will  you  take  me  to  Birmingham  for?' 
'My  fare,  sir,'  said  I,  'is  fifteen  shillings.'  'I  can  go 
by  the  Rora  (Aurora),'  said  he,  'for  ten.'  'No  doubt 
sir,'  I  replied,  'but  then  there's  the  doctor's  bill!' 

"He  went  with  me  that  very  day  they  had  an  accident 
with  the  Rora." 

"Of  what  description?"  asked  Lord  Edmonston. 

"They  was  a  galloping,  my  lord,  against  the  opposition 
which  was  behind  them,  and  over  they  went." 

"And  was  anyone  hurt?" 

"Several,  my  lord." 

"Of  course  the  opposition  stopped  to  afford  assist- 
ance to  the  passengers?" 

"Not  a  bit  of  it,  my  lord;  one  gentleman  told  me  that 
as  he  was  in  the  adl  of  rolling  away  from  the  coach  he 
heard  the  opposition  coachman  sing  out  to  the  other 
as  he  galloped  by — 'What  Joe,  your  bees  are  swarming 
this  fine  morning,  are  they?'" 


ACCIDENTS  201 

There  were  innumerable  instances  of  horses  starting 
when  the  coachman  was  absent  from  the  box,  and, 
though  coaches  were  occasionally  upset  thereby,  it  is  a 
remarkable  tribute  to  the  sagacity  of  the  horses  that 
more  often  than  not  they  trotted  soberly  along  till  they 
reached  the  next  stage,  where  they  drew  up  at  the 
accustomed  halting  place.  The  "outsides"  had  in  the 
meanwhile  hurled  themselves  into  space,  and  injured 
themselves  in  divers  ways,  while  the  "insides"  verified 
the  proverb  that  ignorance  is  bliss,  and  were  perfedlly 
unaware  that  anything  untoward  had  happened. 

The  Exeter  mail  met  with  an  experience  unique 
in  coaching  annals.  One  night  in  October  1816  the 
coach  left  Salisbury  as  usual  and  proceeded  on  its 
lonely  way  over  Salisbury  Plain.  Presently  a  large 
animal  crept  out  of  the  darkness  and  trotted  along  beside 
the  horses.  It  being  impossible  to  see  the  creature  with 
any  distinftness,  there  was  some  speculation  as  to  its 
kind,  but  the  coachman  and  guard  eventually  agreed 
that  it  was  a  calf.  The  horses  did  not  like  it  whatever 
it  was,  and  became  more  and  more  nervous  and  excited. 

The  mail  drew  up  at  Winterslow  Hut  to  deliver  the 
mail-bags,  and  instantly  the  strange  animal  sprang 
upon  the  off  leader,  and  revealed  itself  to  be  not  a  calf, 
but  a  full-grown  lioness.  Instantly  all  was  confusion, 
the  horses  plunged  in  extremity  of  terror  and  threatened 
every  moment  to  overturn  the  coach.  The  coachman, 
a  brave  man  who  could  not  see  his  horse  killed  before  his 
eyes,  drew  out  his  knife  and  prepared  to  attack  the 
lioness  with  that  ineffeftive  weapon.  The  guard  besought 


202  THE   COACHING  ERA 

him  to  abstain  from  such  rashness,  and  drawing  out  his 
own  blunderbuss  was  about  to  fire  it  off  with  a  grim 
determination  to  kill  something  when  voices  were  heard 
and  a  mastiff  dog  rushed  up. 

The  lioness  leaving  the  horse  turned  on  the  dog  and 
for  some  moments  they  fought  furiously;  then  some  men 
appeared  and  the  lioness  hearing  her  keeper's  voice  slunk 
off  and  hid  in  a  hovel  under  a  granary  where  she  was 
soon  captured.  It  turned  out  that  she  belonged  to  a 
travelling  showman,  whose  caravans  had  been  broken 
into  by  thieves,  who  either  by  accident  or  design  per- 
mitted the  lioness  to  escape. 

The  outside  passengers  retained  their  seats  throughout 
the  encounter,  but  the  "insides"  fled  precipitately 
into  the  inn,  and  never  rested  till  they  reached  a  room 
at  the  top  of  the  house,  where  they  locked  themselves 
in. 

The  unfortunate  horse  was  so  badly  injured  that 
it  was  at  first  thought  necessary  to  destroy  it,  but  the 
showman,  who  saw  the  chance  of  a  good  advertisement, 
asked  permission  to  buy  it,  and  after  careful  nursing  it 
recovered,  and  was  exhibited  in  company  with  the  lioness. 

Another  animal  was  responsible  for  an  accident  to 
a  Cambridge  coach,  though  instead  of  being  a  wild 
beast,  it  was  in  that  case  a  mild  and  inoffensive  donkey, 
who  saw  the  coach  coming  towards  him,  and  wishing  to 
show  that  he  had  as  much  right  to  the  public  road  as  a 
coach  and  four,  suddenly  lay  down  and  rolled,  kicking 
up  such  a  cloud  of  dust  that  the  coach  horses,  who 
objedled  to   donkeys   at   any   time,   were  fairly  panic 


S  .3 


I*; 


^i. 


ACCIDENTS  203 

stricken,  and  in  their  dismay  took  the  coach  into  a 
ditch. 

The  state  of  the  weather  had  an  appreciable  effect 
on  the  number  of  coaching  accidents.  Fog  was  the  thing 
most  dreaded  hy  coachmen,  for  when  walls  of  inky 
blackness  surrounded  the  coach,  and  rendered  the 
leaders  almost  indistinguishable,  it  was  no  easy  task  to 
keep  the  coach  on  the  road.  When  the  metropolis  was 
enveloped  in  the  yellow  haze  of  a  London  fog,  the  mails 
used  to  be  escorted  out  of  town  by  men  on  horseback 
carrying  torches,  to  enable  the  coachmen  to  discern  the 
track  at  all.  On  such  occasions  progress  was  necessarily 
slow,  and  the  string  of  coaches  crawling  one  behind  the 
other  sometimes  took  three  hours  to  get  from  London 
to  Hounslow. 

During  a  hard  winter  when  England  was  in  the  grip 
of  regular  arftic  weather,  with  ice  on  the  Thames,  and 
birds  perishing  from  the  intense  cold,  the  streets  of 
London  were  almost  deserted,  and  the  few  hackney- 
carriages  which  ventured  out  were  drawn  by  four 
horses,  whilst  the  situation  of  the  coaches  in  the  pro- 
vinces was  one  of  extreme  peril.  The  Post  Office  officials 
were  in  a  great  state  of  mind  about  their  mails,  and  at 
once  despatched  superintendents  to  the  country  dis- 
tridls  with  the  view  of  helping  those  guards  whose 
coaches  were  unable  to  proceed.  From  all  sides  came 
reports  of  dangers  and  disasters. 

The  Wisbech  coach  was  buried  in  a  snow-drift; 
the  guard  took  one  of  the  horses  and  struggled  forward 
with  the  mails,  but  before  he  had  gone  any  distance  he 


204  THE   COACHING   ERA 

fell  into  another  drift,  from  which  he  escaped  with 
much  difficulty,  and  his  horse  died  of  suffocation  before 
help  could  be  obtained. 

The  Edinburgh  mail  bravely  started  on  its  return 
journey,  but,  though  it  had  the  assistance  of  eight 
waggon  horses  besides  its  own  team,  it  could  get  no 
farther  than  Royston.  The  Liverpool  mail  overturned 
near  Lichfield,  and  the  Leeds  coach  gave  up  the  attempt 
at  Dunstable. 

The  Newmarket  road  was  so  blocked  with  snow 
near  Bournbridge  that  the  up  and  down  mails  stuck 
fast  within  sight  of  each  other,  and  the  coachmen  and 
guards  had  to  carry  the  mails  and  luggage  across  the 
snow.  The  up  and  down  Yarmouth  coaches  were 
similarly  situated  at  Saxmundham,  whilst  one  coach  was 
stuck  at  Walton,  and  another  abandoned  near  Lowestoft. 

Many  of  the  abandoned  coaches  were  buried  beneath 
the  snow,  so  that  three  months  later  the  Post  Office 
sent  out  the  following  circular: 

"Several  mail  coaches  being  still  missing  that  were 
obstrufted  in  the  snow  since  February  last,  this  is  to 
desire  you,  you  will  immediately  represent  to  me  an 
account  of  all  the  spare  patent  mail  coaches  that  are 
in  the  stages  where  you  travel  over,  whether  they  are 
regular  stationed  mail  coaches  or  extra  spare  coaches, 
and  the  exadl  place  where  they  are,  either  in  barn, 
field,  yard  or  coach-house,  and  the  condition  they  are 
in,  if  they  have  seats,  rugs,  and  windows  complete."^ 

Coachmen   and   guards   on    all   sides    declared   that 
1  The  Royal  Mail.  J.  Wilson  Hyde. 


ACCIDENTS  205 

their  faces  were  numb  and  swollen  hy  the  force  of  the 
hail  and  snow,  and  that  never  in  their  lives  had  they 
experienced  such  a  storm,  an  assertion  fully  borne  out 
by  a  gentleman  who  travelled  by  the  Chester  mail: 

"After  leaving  Northampton  on  Friday  night  we 
got  on  tolerably  well  notwithstanding  the  violence  of 
the  driving  snow,  to  Broughton  field  from  whence  the 
guard  for  two  miles  explored  a  passage  for  the  horses 
which  could  with  difficulty  be  made  to  facejthe  storm. 
At  Hockliff  we  found  numerous  other  coaches  which 
were  unable  to  proceed.  We  were  told  by  a  person 
who  had  just  returned  with  the  horses  that  the  heavy 
Coventry  and  Chester  coaches  were  stuck  fast  in  the 
snow  on  Chalk  Hill. 

"Dawn  having  broken,  I  with  a  superintendent  of  the 
Post  Office  set  off  on  horseback,  and  with  much  diffi- 
culty succeeded  in  reaching  Dunstable,  where  we  got  a 
chaise  with  six  horses  and  arrived  in  London  at  12.30 
on  Saturday  night." 

Chalk  Hill  seems  to  have  been  a  place  of  unenviable 
notoriety  in  a  snow-storm,  for  in  1808  the  Liverpool 
mail  was  unable  to  get  up  it,  and  the  guard  who  brought 
on  the  mails  declared  that  in  many  places  the  roads 
were  ten  or  twelve  feet  under  snow. 

The  same  day  the  Gloucester  and  Worcester  coaches 
could  go  no  farther  than  Benson  ;  the  Bristol  mail  had 
twice  to  be  dug  out  of  the  snow,  and  the  Exeter  mail 
was  stopped  by  the  passengers  at  Overton. 

At  Bury  St.  Edmunds  there  was  a  grand  subscription 
dance  when  one  hundred  and  sixty  persons  were  present, 
including  a  number  of  undergraduates  from  Cambridge, 


2o6  THE   COACHING  ERA 

"who  came  in  their  usual  style  in  tandems,  and  on 
horseback,  blowing  horns."  At  four  o'clock  in  the 
morning  the  dance  ended,  and  the  company  attempted 
to  depart  but  found  to  their  consternation  that  snow 
had  fallen  heavily  all  night,  making  the  roads  impassable. 
Even  those  who  resided  within  a  few  miles  were  unable 
to  get  home,  and  beds  at  the  various  inns  were  at  a 
premium.  Many  ladies  and  gentlemen,  who  could  not 
find  any  accommodation,  sat  up  the  rest  of  the  night  in 
the  card  rooms. 

During  the  afternoon  the  Cambridge  men  with  their 
tandems,  gigs,  and  trumpets  made  a  valiant  attempt 
to  get  to  their  University,  but  were  obliged  to  return 
to  Bury.  The  weather-bound  visitors  renewed  the 
ball  for  two  nights,  and  the  younger  members,  at  any 
rate,  extradled  a  good  deal  of  amusement  out  of  their 
novel  situation. 

The  second  day  another  attempt  was  made  to  get 
away,  and  though  they  had  to  abandon  their  carriages 
and  proceed  on  horseback,  a  party  managed  to  get  as 
far  as  Newmarket,  where  they  were  forced  to  remain. 
Mr.  Mills,  the  High  Sheriff,  reached  his  home  near 
Saxham  the  third  day,  by  having  his  carriage  preceded 
by  a  heavy  broad-wheeled  waggon  drawn  by  four  horses 
abreast;  whilst  two  families  residing  at  Rougham  were 
drawn  across  the  open  fields  in  a  waggon  with  six 
horses. 

Macready  travelled  with  his  company  to  Newcastle 
in  January  1813,  through  a  blinding  snow-storm. 
Between  Ross  Inn  and  Berwick-on-Tweed  the  drifts 


ACCIDENTS  207 

were  so  deep  that  for  several  miles  men  had  to  go  on 
before  and  cut  a  passage  for  the  coach.  They  did  not 
arrive  at  Newcastle  till  two  hours  after  midnight,  and 
Macready  had  reason  to  congratulate  himself  that  he 
had  not  delayed  his  journey,  for  the  next  day  the  snow 
was  so  deep  that  the  coaches  ceased  to  run,  and  for 
six  weeks  there  was  no  means  of  communication  between 
Newcastle  and  Edinburgh. 

People  who  travelled  on  a  coach  in  a  snow-storm 
never  forgot  it;  they  were  not  anxious  to  repeat  the 
experience.  One  man  started  on  the  Regulator  from 
Bath  at  6  a.m.  on  a  bitter  winter  morning.  It  came 
on  to  snow,  and  snowed  without  ceasing  throughout 
the  day.  The  six  horses  harnessed  to  the  coach  could 
hardly  draw  it,  and  though  due  in  London  at  eight  at 
night  it  was  three  the  following  morning  before  the 
Regulator  laboured  up  to  The  White  Horse.  The 
traveller  attributed  the  fa61:  that  he  arrived  alive,  to 
the  stiff  glass  of  brandied  coffee  he  imbibed  at  every 
stage.  As  it  was,  his  hands  and  feet  were  so  numbed  and 
incapable  of  motion  that  he  was  hauled  out  of  his 
hammock  of  snow  like  a  bale  of  goods.  The  landlady 
had  him  carried  into  the  kitchen,  where  she  thawed 
him  gradually  and  administered  consolation  in  the 
shape  of  hot  possets  of  her  own  compounding. 

Passengers  underwent  much  discomfort  and  anxiety 
at  such  times,  but  there  is  no  doubt  they  were  some- 
times unreasonable.  Once  when  a  blinding  snow-storm 
swirled  round  a  coach,  and  an  unhappy  coachman  and 
guard  wrestled  bravely  with  their  own  numb  fingers 


2o8  THE   COACHING   ERA 

and  a  broken  pole,  the  box-seat  passenger,  plentifully 
enveloped  with  coats  and  shawls,  exclaimed  bitterly: 
"What  are  you  fellows  keeping  me  here  in  the  cold  for 
and  warming  your  own  hands  at  the  lamp." 

A  traveller  in  a  blinding  snow-storm  put  his  head 
out  of  the  Oxonian  coach  and  inquired  of  John  Bayzand 
if  he  knew  where  he  was.  Bayzand,  who  had  lost  his 
bearings  completely  and  was  on  the  verge  of  losing  his 
temper  as  well,  replied  that  if  his  passenger  was  anxious 
for  the  truth,  and  nothing  but  the  truth,  he  should  have 
it,  which  amounted  to  the  fa£l  that  he,  the  coachman, 
did  not  know  where  he  was,  and  had  no  immediate 
prospeft  of  finding  out. 

"Oh,  indeed!"  snorted  the  inside  passenger  in  a  rage, 
"a  nice  sort  of  fellow  you  are  to  be  entrusted  with  the 
lives  of  Her  Majesty's  servants." 

"Perhaps  you  will  be  kind  enough  to  get  out  and 
show  me  the  right  road,"  said  Bayzand. 

The  gentleman,  feeling  confident  that  he  could 
perform  this  simple  feat,  immediately  stepped  forth, 
and  landed  unexpe6ledly  in  a  snow-drift,  where  he 
cried  out  very  lustily  that  he  would  be  smothered.  He 
was  allowed  time  to  cool  his  temper  and  then  the  guard 
extricated  him. 

The  Oxonian  wandered  about  indefinitely,  till  it 
met  a  countryman,  who  gave  the  coachman  the  cheering 
information  that  he  was  miles  out  of  his  way;  that  the 
road  ahead  was  blocked  up  and  utterly  impassable;  and 
it  was  exceedingly  doubtful  if  he  could  get  back  along 
the  road  he  had  come. 


ACCIDENTS  209 

Bayzand  said  he  would  try  anyway,  turned  his  coach 
round,  and  after  many  difficulties  eventually  succeeded 
in  reaching  Oxford,  where  the  coach  was  snowed  up  for 
several  days. 

"Coachman,  do  you  know  how  much  of  my  valuable 
time  you  are  wasting?"  inquired  a  querulous  passenger 
fretted  by  delay.  To  whom  the  coachman  replied  with 
dignity,  "And  will  you  please  to  remember,  sir,  that  I  am 
losing  just  as  much  time  as  yourself." 

A  pompous  clergyman  received  an  equally  effedlive 
rebuke  from  a  shepherd  boy  of  whom  he  inquired  the 
way  to  Horsepath.  The  youth  grinned  but  made  no 
reply. 

"Boy,"  said  the  cleric  haughtily,  "do  you  know  who 
lam?" 

"Noa,"  drawled  the  boy  indifferently. 

"I  am  one  of  those  lights  sent  to  show  you  the  way 
to  heaven,"  said  the  clergyman  impressively. 

"Well,  a  nice  'un  'ee  must  be,  an'  don't  know  the 
road  to  Horsepath,"  scoffed  the  shepherd  boy. 


14 


CHAPTER  XIV   TRAVELLERS'  EXPERIENCES 

IN  order  to  gain  an  accurate  idea  of  the 
pleasures  and  discomforts  incidental  to  travel 
when  the  public  stage  and  mail  coaches 
constituted  the  only  means  of  locomotion, 
it  is  necessary  to  read  the  diaries  written  by  men  who 
lived  in  those  days,  and  who  have  left  an  account  of 
their  experiences.  Some  found  coaching  delightful  and 
enjoyed  themselves,  others  thought  it  hateful  and  were 
miserable;  difference  of  opinion  usually  traceable  to 
their  own  characters,  the  state  of  the  weather,  and  the 
nature  of  their  travelling  companions. 

Celebrities  travelling  unrecognized  occasionally  heard 
their  merits  and  demerits  discussed  with  considerable 
freedom.  Macready  heard  his  a6ling  lauded  to  the  skies 
by  a  fellow  passenger  who  was  transported  with  joy  when 
he  found  himself  in  such  close  proximity  to  his  hero. 

Richard  Brinsley  Sheridan  found  less  cause  for  pride 
returning  to  London  from  an  eleClioneering  campaign 
in  Staffordshire,  where  he  had  swallowed  quarts  of 
Staffordshire  ale,  and  eaten  innumerable  legs  of  pork, 
mutton,  and  turnips,  "eating  his  way  into  the  confidence 
of  the  burghers."  His  companions  in  the  coach  were 
three  gentlemen  who  fell  to  discussing  the  political 
situation  with  great  frankness.  One,  who  sat  opposite 
Sheridan,  was  especially  vehement,  and  denounced 
Monckton  (the  present  member)  as  "A  madman  or  a 
fool,"  for  taking  under  his  wing  "the  adventurer 
Sheridan,"    and   scandalously   attempting    "to   bolster 


TRAVELLERS'   EXPERIENCES       211 

him  into  the  House  of  Commons."  The  only  satis- 
factory thing  about  the  matter  was  that  both  would 
for  a  certainty  be  defeated.  The  second  passenger 
sincerely  hoped  it  might  be  so,  but  at  the  same  time 
he  had  an  uneasy  suspicion  that  Monckton  had  increased 
rather  than  decreased  his  popularity  by  his  coalition 
with  Sheridan. 

"Who  is  the  man?"  drawled  the  third  man. 

Passenger  number  one  immediately  volunteered  the 
information:  "A  low  fellow,  a  fit  companion  for  horse 
jockeys  and  grooms,  so  I  hear:/of  /  don't  know  him,  and 
don't  wish  to  know  him — a  fellow  full  of  quips,  jokes  and 
jests  and  vulgar  jocularities." 

Sheridan,  taken  aback  at  this  conception  of  himself, 
remained  silent,  and  escaped  further  enlightenment 
as  to  his  charadler  by  the  stoppage  of  the  coach  and 
the  appearance  of  the  guard  with  the  agreeable  intima- 
tion: "Sup  here,  gentlemen." 

Food  and  drink  loosened  restraint,  and  Sheridan 
entered  into  conversation  with  his  companions,  causing 
them  much  merriment  by  his  ready  wit.  All  too  soon 
came  the  hated  "Coach  is  ready,"  and  as  they  left  the 
inn  Sheridan  took  one  of  the  gentlemen  aside  and 
inquired  the  name  of  the  man  who  had  so  bitterly 
denounced  him. 

"That  gentleman,  sir,  is  Mr.  Richard  Wilson,  the 
eminent  solicitor  of  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields." 

The  passengers  resumed  their  seats,  and  began  to 
question  Sheridan,  whom  they  termed  a  "devilish 
agreeable  fellow." 


212  THE   COACHING   ERA 

"A  stranger  in  these  parts,  sir?" 

Sheridan — "Well,  not  exaftly,  more  generally  per- 
haps, than  particularly  known;  and  only  waiting  my 
time  to  become  better  acquainted  with  the  good  men  of 
Staffordshire." 

"Do  you  propose  settling  in  this  county?" 

Sheridan — "That  entirely  depends  on  circumstances. 
My  present  journey  to  London  is  connedled  with  that 
event;  but  when  we  have  to  deal  with  lawyers  we  can 
never  calculate  with  any  certainty  on  the  issue." 

This,  as  Sheridan  expe6led,  brought  the  first  passage 
on  the  carpet. 

1st  Passenger — "The  law,  sir,  committed  to  intelli- 
gent hands,  and  duly  administered,  is  our  only  pro- 
tedtion,  the  only  security  we  have  for  our  lives  and 
property." 

Sheridan — "You  must  pardon  me,  I  do  not  complain 
of  the  law — I  am  a  law  abider.  My  complaint  is  of  its 
pra6litioners  who  convert  the  law  to  their  own  ends,  and 
then  abuse  it — who  will  pick  the  pockets  of  their  client 
with  a  bland  smile  and  involve  him  in  a  suit  for  the  sake 
of  the  fees." 

ist  Passenger — "Sir,  you  are  severe  and  unjust; 
your  remarks  cannot  apply  to  the  profession  generally." 

Sheridan — "I  shall  be  happy  if  you  will  supply  me 
with  a  case  where  I  may  be  proved  in  error." 

1st  Passenger — "Many,  sir — many." 

Sheridan — "I  presume  you  think  so.  But  let  me 
state  a  case  in  proof  of  my  argument;  and  which,  I  think, 
will  cover  the  whole  of  the  fraternity.  There  is  a  low 
fellow  who  keeps  his  office  in  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields,  high 
in  his  profession,  who  will  sneak  into  your  title  deeds 


TRAVELLERS'   EXPERIENCES        213 

and  absorb  the  rental:  he  will  not  pick  a  pocket,  but, 
soaring  high  for  nobler  game,  hungering  for  a  fee,  will 
hy  his  quirks  and  quidlebets,  his  chancery  bills  and  his 
subtle  pleas,  corrupt  the  law;  defeat  the  ends  of  justice, 
and  drive  his  miserable  beggared  client  to  suicide  or  the 
mad-house." 

1st  Passenger  (greatly  excited) — "Name,  sir,  name. 
I  know  no  such  praditioner  in  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields: 
respe6lab]e  men,  sir — all  respeftable  men." 

Sheridan — (with  pretended  reluftance) — "I  do  not 
think  I  could  justify  myself  in  naming  the  man, /or  /  do 
not  know  him,  and  I  do  not  wish  to  know  him;  but  since 
you  desire  it,  I  shall  freely  give  you  his  name,  leaving  it 
to  himself  to  absolve  it  of  the  calumny.  His  name,  sir, 
is  Richard  Wilson." 

1st  Passenger  (gathering  himself  up  in  insulted 
dignity) — "I,  sir,  am  Richard  Wilson." 

Sheridan — "Indeed  !  why  then  we  are  quits,  for 
I  am  Richard  Brinsley  Sheridan." 

"The  devil  you  are!"  roared  passenger  number  three, 
suddenly  seeing  the  humour  of  the  situation.  The  others 
joined  in,  and  laughed  immoderately  at  the  neat  manner 
in  which  Mr.  Richard  Wilson  had  been  hoist  with  his 
own  petard.  The  utmost  good  fellowship  then  prevailed 
for  the  rest  of  the  journey  and,  in  the  lawyer,  Sheridan 
gained  a  friend  who  stood  by  him  to  the  end  of  his  life. 

Very  similar  was  the  case  of  Sydney  Smith,  who 
said,  "Most  people  sulk  in  stage-coaches;  I  always  talk." 
True  to  this  principle  he  conversed  amicably  with  a 
fellow  passenger  to  York,  who  on  nearing  the  city  re- 
marked: "There  is  a  very  clever  man,  they  say,  but  a 
d odd  fellow,  lives  near  here — Sydney  Smith." 


214  THE   COACHING   ERA 

"He  may  be  very  odd,"  assented  the  gentleman  thus 
spoken  of,  taking  off  his  hat  and  making  a  profound 
bow,  "I  dare  say  he  is,  but  odd  as  he  is,  he  is  here,  very 
much  at  your  service." 

"Poor  man!  I  thought  he  would  have  sunk  into 
his  boots  and  vanished  through  the  bed  of  the  carriage, 
he  was  so  distressed,"  commented  Sydney  Smith,  adding 
with  his  accustomed  humour,  "but  I  thought  I  had 
better  tell  him,  or  he  might  proceed  to  say  I  had 
murdered  my  grandmother,  which  I  must  have  re- 
sented, you  know." 

As  he  was  going  on  a  visit  to  Lord  Brougham,  by  a 
night  coach,  two  Scotch  girls  got  in  at  Carlisle,  one 
remarking  as  she  arranged  her  bandboxes:  "It's  very 
disagreeable  getting  into  a  coach  in  the  dark,  it's  im- 
possible to  see  one's  company." 

"Very  true,  ma'am,  and  you  have  a  great  loss  in 
not  seeing  me,  for  I  am  a  remarkably  handsome  man," 
responded  Sydney  Smith  with  much  promptitude. 

"No,  sir!  Are  you  really?"  exclaimed  the  ladies, 
pleasurable  excited. 

"Yes,  and  in  the  flower  of  my  youth,"  cheerfully 
lied  Sydney  Smith,  who  was  elderly  and  fat.  The  coach 
passed  a  street  lamp,  and  the  girls  caught  a  brief  and 
indistin^l:  vision  of  the  bulky  form  opposite  them. 

"La,  sir,  you  seem  very  stout,"  said  one  doubtfully. 

"Oh  no,  not  at  all,  ma'am,  it's  only  my  greatcoat," 
he  assured  her  earnestly. 

"Where  are  you  going,  sir?"  was  the  next  inquiry. 

"To  Brougham  Hall." 


TRAVELLERS'   EXPERIENCES       215 

This  made  a  sensation. 

"Why  you  must  be  a  very  remarkable  man  to  be  going 
to  Brougham  Hall!" 

"I  am  a  very  remarkable  man,  ma'am,"  Sydney  Smith 
confirmed. 

The  ladies  asked  many  more  questions,  vainly  tried 
to  discover  their  companion's  name,  and,  as  it  was  still 
dark  when  they  left  the  coach,  they  did  so  under  the 
impression  that  they  had  left  behind  them  a  perfeft 
Adonis,  and  a  nobleman  at  least. 

Charles  Matthews,  the  comedian,  likewise  used  his 
inventive  faculties  for  the  bewilderment  of  fellow 
travellers,  for  on  the  way  to  Portsmouth  he  took  it 
into  his  head  to  pretend  that  he  was  a  madman.  His 
companion,  entering  into  the  joke,  posed  as  his  keeper, 
and  gravely  informed  the  landlord  of  the  inn  where  they 
halted  that  his  friend,  a  major  in  the  army,  had  been 
wounded  in  the  head  in  Spain,  which  had  quite  deranged 
him.  Matthews  afted  the  part  of  madman  so  realistically 
that  the  people  at  the  inn  were  terrified  out  of  their 
lives.  In  the  midst  of  the  general  excitement  Lord 
Ormond  arrived,  and  as  a  treat  was  allowed  to  have  a 
peep  at  the  lunatic,  carrying  on  in  an  amazing  manner. 
Lord  Ormond  recognized  the  aftor,  and  nearly  betrayed 
him,  but,  managing  to  control  himself,  he  played  up  to 
Matthews  and  his  friend  in  a  manner  which  caused 
infinite  merriment  to  all  three. 

Matthews'  profession  necessitated  much  moving 
about  from  place  to  place,  and  in  consequence  he  had 
intimate  acquaintance  with  the  coaches  of  the  time. 


2i6  THE   COACHING  ERA 

That  he  placed  implicit  faith  in  the  morals  and  maxims 
contained  in  Dr.  Kitchiner's  Traveller's  Oracle^  can  be 
gathered  from  the  account  of  a  journey  to  Liverpool 
in  1823. 

Of  his  companions  he  wrote  in  no  measured  terms: 
"Three  great  hulking  rascals,  and  afraid  of  the  cold, 
pretty  dears!"  Have  the  windows  open  they  would  not. 
"There  was  no  possibility  of  getting  a  breath  of  air, 
but  by  quarrelling.  Not  even  the  commonplace  polite- 
ness of  a  coach  traveller  was  practised.  Would  it  be 
agreeable  to  have  this  window  u-pP'^  No,  up  it  went.  I 
watched  them  to  sleep,  stole  it  down.  In  a  few  minutes 
up! — and  down  again;  and  so  on,  without  a  word. 

"If  this  goes  on  I  shall  be  smothered,"  thought 
Charles  Matthews — then  he  remembered  the  "Oracle"; 
that  invaluable  work  provided  for  just  such  a  con- 
tingency. Seeing  that  the  "  pretty  dears"  were  three 
to  one,  he  hesitated  to  follow  Dr.  Kitchiner's  advice, 
anent  breaking  the  vdndow,  too  literally,  but  when  the 
coach  halted  at  the  next  stage,  he  got  out  and  whispered 
his  plan  to  the  willing  ears  of  an  Irishman  whose  seat 
was  on  the  roof. 

Paddy  assented  rapturously,  and  when  clambering 
back  to  his  place,  "accidentally"  kicked  his  boot  right 
through  one  of  the  coach  windows!  Fresh  air  in 
plenty  then,  and  Matthews  hugged  himself  delightedly. 
Arrived  at  his  destination,  and  no  longer  obliged  to  keep 
unwilling  company  with  the  three  "pretty  dears,"  he 
desired  to  reveal  his  duplicity,  and  calling  for  the  guard, 
paid  him  the  price  of  the  broken  pane.  "The  faces  of 


TRAVELLERS'   EXPERIENCES       217 

the  party  would  have  been  a  subje6l  for  Wilkie;  par- 
ticularly the  Irishman  and  the  guard,  who  evidently 
had  a  perception  of  the  humorous." 

The  question  as  to  whether  the  window  should  be 
open  or  shut,  always  a  nice  one,  gave  rise  to  a  laughable 
encounter  in  a  North  Mail  one  cold  winter's  night. 
Charles  Matthews,  who  said  that  he  never  entered 
a  coach  without  encountering  "either  a  baby  in  arms, 
a  sick  child,  or  a  man  in  consumption,"  found  to  his 
delight  that  there  were  only  two  occupants,  an  English- 
man and  a  Scotsman,  who  seated  opposite  each  other 
left  him  the  fourth  place  for  his  legs,  a  luxury  greatly 
to  be  appreciated  on  a  night  journey.  Matthews  put 
up  his  feet,  the  Englishman  wrapped  himself  up  in  a 
shawl,  the  Scotsman  enveloped  his  head  and  shoulders 
in  enormous  folds  of  white  linen,  and  their  several 
preparations  finished  they  all  dropped  off  to  sleep. 

Suddenly  the  coach  stopped  with  a  jolt  that  shook 
them  into  half  wakefulness.  They  had  halted  in  front  of 
a  small  inn,  and  a  convivial  party  was  bidding  one  of 
their  number  an  uproarious  but  cordial  farewell.  He 
for  his  part  shouted  them  "Good-night"  in  stentorian 
tones,  and  exhorted  them  to  remember  that  he  had 
paid  his  share  of  the  reckoning. 

Then,  to  the  wrath  of  the  three  insides,  the  guard 
opened  the  door  and  in  came  a  huge  Yorkshire  drover, 
his  coat  covered  with  snow.  Instindlively  they  all  drew 
back  from  the  damp  stranger,  who,  ignorant  of  the 
whereabouts  of  the  vacant  seat,  and  slightly  muddled 
as  to  his  senses,  stumbled  about  in  his  endeavours  to 


2i8  THE   COACHING   ERA 

find  it.  He  trod  on  the  toes  of  the  other  passengers, 
lurched  up  against  them,  only  to  be  pushed  off  with 
much  vigour,  till  Matthews,  with  a  particularly  vicious 
thrust,  caused  him  to  sit  down  in  the  fourth  place. 

The  aftor  and  his  two  companions  all  indignant 
and  aggrieved  at  the  intrusion,  pulled  up  their  wraps 
and  once  more  composed  themselves  for  sleep.  This 
was  not  to  be,  for  the  drover,  taking  hold  of  the  window- 
pull,  demanded  loudly:  "Coompany!  oop  or  down?" 

Answer  made  they  none. 

Anxious  to  do  the  agreeable  he  again  inquired: 
"Coompany!  oop  or  down?"  Still  no  one  answered.  A 
smothered  oath  bespoke  his  indignation  at  such  dis- 
courteous treatment,  and  he  demanded  in  some  ex- 
asperation: "Dom  it!  I  say,  Coompany — oop  or  down?" 

The  other  three,  seething  with  wrath,  would  not 
deign  to  notice  his  existence,  and  with  a  "dom  it,"  he 
let  the  window  remain  down.  The  cold  night  air 
rushing  in  made  his  companions  shiver,  but  they  were 
prepared  to  endure  any  sufferings  rather  than  speak 
to  the  hated  intruder. 

For  a  short  time  he  was  silent,  then  suddenly  he  saw 
something  which  astonished  him;  when  he  entered  the 
inn  early  in  the  evening  he  had  left  a  world  green  and 
brown  with  the  neutral  tints  of  winter,  now  the  ground 
was  white;  the  change  struck  him  as  miraculous  and  he 
exclaimed: 

"Eh!  ma  God!  what's  this?  Whoight!  the  whole 
country's  covered  wi'  snow — Eh!  it's  awful.  Coompany — 
wake  up  and  see  th'  snow!  Eh!  they're  all  asleep.  Good 


i 


TRAVELLERS'   EXPERIENCES       219 

God!  whoight  it's  wonderful  and  awful.  Good  Lord, 
what  a  noight — what  a  noight.  Eh!  God  presarve  all 
poor  mariners  on  the  Western  coast  this  noight." 

It  struck  him  as  so  astounding,  that  he  determined 
his  fellow  travellers  should  look  at  it,  and  roared  out 
with  increased  vehemence — "Coompany!  Eh!  they're 
dead,  I  reckon.  Eh!  my  God!  what  a  noight.  Awful!" 

So  he  went  on  till  the  English  gentleman  became 
frenzied  and  spoke:  "I  wish,  sir,  you  would  show  some 
feeling  for  us,  and  hold  your  tongue.  We  were  all  asleep 
when  you  came  in,  and  you've  done  nothing  but  talk 
and  disturb  us  ever  since.  You  are  a  positive  nuisance,'''' 

"Eh!"  exclaimed  the  drover  surprised,  "I  loike  that, 
indeed!  Aw've  as  much  roight  here  I  reckon  as  others — 
dom  av've  paid,  haven't  I?" 

Hearing  no  confirmation  for  these  statements,  the 
sense  of  injustice  rose  in  him,  and  he  proceeded  to 
recount  his  claims  for  consideration. 

"Aw'm  a  respeftable  mon — my  name's  John  Luckie — 
I  owes  nobody  onything — I  pays  King's  taxes — I'm  a 
respedlable  mon,  I  say.  Aw  help  to  support  Church  and 
State." 

On  he  went  with  all  the  senseless  swagger  of  cup 
valour  and  self-laudation,  till  once  more  the  Englishman 
gave  vent  to  anger,  and  the  huge  drover  again  summed 
up  his  title  to  respeft. 

"Eh!  dom!— what  have  I  done?  I  coom'd  into  t'coich 
loike  a  gentleman — didn't  I?  I  was  civil — wasn't  I? 
I  said  Coompany,  oop  or  down.  But  ye  none  o'  ye  had 
the  politeness  to  answer!  Ye  were  not  loike  gentlemen! 


220  THE   COACHING  ERA 

Dom!  I'm  a  respeftable  mon  Aw  say — I've  no  book 
larning,but  I  pays  King's  taxes,  my  name's  John  Luckie." 
His  sense  of  oppression  became  so  strong  that  he  boldly 
declared  he  would  not  hold  his  tongue,  nor  be  quiet. 
*'No,  not  if  Baron  Hullock^  or  the  great  Mr.  Brougham^ 
were  in  t'coich." 

This  gave  Charles  Matthews  an  idea,  and  leaning 
forward  he  said  softly  and  confidentially,  "Hush!  you  are 
not  aware  that  you  have  been  speaking  all  this  time  to 
Baron  Hullock  himself!" 

This  dismayed  the  Yorkshire  man  considerably: 
"Whoigh,  you  don't  say  so?" 

"Fadl,  I  assure  you,"  said  Matthews  hugely  delighted, 
"and,"  pointing  to  the  Scotsman  with  his  white 
drapery,  "Opposite  him  is  Lady  Hullock." 

John  Luckie  was  staggered.  "Whoigh!  Good  God, 
don't  tell  me  that\  Eh!  what  shall  I  do\  Good  Lord! 
what  have  I  said?  Art  thou  sure?" 

"I  am  indeed,"  said  Mr.  Matthews  impressively,  "they 
are  Baron  and  Lady  Hullock — and  I  am  Mr.  Brougham." 

John  Luckie  went  all  to  pieces. 

"Eh!"  he  roared  in  terror,  struggling  with  the  coach 
door,  "Let  me  go!  Let  me  go!  I'm  no  coompany  for 
sitch  gentlefolks;  aw've  no  book  larning;  I'm  no  but 
John  Luckie.  Let  me  get  out — here  guard!  Stop! 
Stop!  I  warn't  roide  here  any  longer!" 

In  his  struggle  he  inconvenienced  the  other  passengers, 
and  Charles  Matthews  added  to  his  terror  by  imitating 
the  cry  of  a  hurt  child. 

^  Baron  of  the  Exchequer.  ^  Lord  Chancellor. 


TRAVELLERS'   EXPERIENCES       221 

'  "Eh,  ma  God!  what  is  there  a  bairn  in  t'coach  too? 
Eh,  my  Lord  Baron,  pray  forgive  me,  I  meant  no  offence. 
My  name's  John  Luckie.  Aw'm  a  respedlable  mon,  aw 
pays  King's  taxes,  I  said  Coompany  oop  or  down.  I 
meant  to  be  civil.  Eh!  my  Lady  HuUock,  I  hope  aw've 
not  hurt  thy  bairn." 

The  child's  cries  increased;  so  did  John  Luckie's 
panic.  "Eh!  my  poor  bairn,  where  art  thee?  Dom\ 
what  moost  I  do?  Guard!  stop  and  let  me  out!  Eh! 
what  a  noight!  Guard!  I'm  no  fit  coompany  for  Baron 
HuUock  and  Mr.  Brougham,  I  know.  Let  me  out,  I  say." 

At  last  the  coachman  did  stop,  and  out  rolled  John 
Luckie  begging  the  Baron  and  his  lady  and  Mr. 
Brougham  to  overlook  his  mistake.  He  mounted  to  the 
roof,  and  as  the  coach  went  on  its  way  the  inside 
passengers  ever  and  anon  heard  phrases  of  John  Luckie's 
conversation  as  he  related  his  adventures  to  the  coach- 
man and  guard.  "Baron  HuUock — Respedlable  mon — 
Mr.  Bruffen — Awful  noight!  Oop  or  down! — King's 
taxes " 

At  the  time  when  the  first  Balloon  Ascents  were 
causing  great  sensation,  Matthews  came  down  in  the 
Liverpool  coach,  and  among  his  fellow  passengers  was 
Sadler,  the  aeronaut.  At  Wolverhampton  an  outside 
passenger  beckoned  to  Matthews,  and  said  mysteri- 
ously: "Do  you  know  wha's  'at  inside  t'coach?" 

The  adlor  shook  his  head. 

"Why,  Sadler,  the  Aurora.'" 

Mr.  Incledon,  a  friend  of  Charles  Matthews,  was 
a  person  of  great  eccentricity  and  caused  considerable 


222  THE   COACHING   ERA 

embarrassment  to  his  friend.  Being  on  a  coach  soon 
after  the  death  of  his  wife,  he  evinced  great  interest  in  a 
fellow  passenger  apparently  in  the  last  stage  of  con- 
sumption. On  leaving  the  coach  he  said  to  him:  "My 
good  man,  we're  going  to  leave  you.  It's  my  opinion, 
my  poor  fellow,  that  you  are  bespoke;  you're  now,  I 
take  it,  as  good  as  ready  money  to  the  undertaker.  In 
faft,  you're  booked,  so  there,  there's  a  seven-shilling 
piece  for  you,  my  good  man,  and  when  you  go  to  heaven 
and  see  my  sainted  Jane,  pray  tell  her  you  saw  me,  and 
that  I'm  well." 

On  a  coach  journey  one  hot  summer  day  Mr.  Incledon 
was  annoyed  and  terrified  whenever  a  wasp  entered 
the  carriage.  The  journey  lasted  forty  miles,  but  he 
could  not  be  dissuaded  from  the  firm  conviftion  that  it 
was  the  same  wasp,  who  travelled  the  whole  distance 
with  the  express  purpose  of  alarming  him. 

"There's  that  cursed  wasp  again!"  he  would  exclaim, 
and  try,  with  many  imprecations  to  destroy  it,  to  the 
considerable  disgust  of  a  grave  taciturn  man  who 
occupied  a  seat  in  the  coach.  Presently  this  gentleman 
fell  asleep,  and  a  wasp  entering  the  coach  Mr.  Incledon 
redoubled  his  efforts  to  catch  it.  At  last  it  settled  on 
the  face  of  the  sleeper.  Mr.  Incledon  caught  his  breath, 
lifted  his  hand,  and  brought  it  down  with  earnest 
violence  on  the  face  of  the  somnolent  passenger,  ex- 
claiming triumphantly:  "Ha!  d — n  you.  I've  done  for 
you  now!"  The  gentleman  so  unceremoniously  awakened 
rose  up  in  wrath,  and  even  with  the  mangled  yellow 
corpse  on  his  cheek  as  evidence,  and  Incledon's  earnest 


I 


<      t 

8  "^ 


o    ^ 


TRAVELLERS'   EXPERIENCES       223 

assertions  and  many  additional  oaths,  he  could  scarcely 
be  convinced  that  it  was  not  a  deliberate  attempt  on 
his  life. 

Incledon,  always  extremely  fastidious  concerning 
his  food,  usually  made  dire6l  for  the  larder  the  moment 
the  coach  stopped  at  an  inn,  and  once  while  the  horses 
were  being  changed  he  chanced  to  see  a  loin  o^  pork 
upon  which  he  set  his  affections.  Going  up  to  the  land- 
lord, a  portly,  independent  person,  he  requested  leave 
to  purchase  the  delicacy  to  take  on  with  him. 

The  landlord  refused,  saying  the  loin  was  destined 
to  appear  on  the  table  for  a  coach  which  dined  at  the 
inn  later  in  the  day.  This  denial  inflamed  Incledon's 
anxiety,  and  he  begged  the  landlord  to  let  him  have  it 
at  the  price  it  would  be  charged  to  the  dinner  customers. 

"  No,"  said  the  landlord. 

"At  double  the  price,  then?"  coaxed  Incledon. 

"No." 

Incledon  grew  desperate,  and  pulling  all  the  loose 
silver  out  of  his  pocket  he  begged  the  landlord  to  take 
it  and  give  him  the  coveted  piece  of  pork. 

"No,"  said  the  landlord,  and  Incledon  nearly  wept. 

Charles  Matthews,  ashamed  of  his  friend's  childish 
behaviour,  walked  off  not  waiting  to  see  the  end  of 
the  transaction.  When  they  resumed  their  journey,  Mr. 
Incledon  took  a  handkerchief  out  of  his  pocket  and  dis- 
played the  uncooked  piece  of  pork  triumphantly. 

"What,  you  prevailed  at  last,  how  did  you  manage 
to  coax  that  surly  fellow  out  of  it?"  said  Matthews. 

"Charles  Matthews?"  replied  Mr.  Incledon  solemnly, 


224  THE   COACHING  ERA 

"I  did  not  prevail;  my  dear  boy,  the  man  was  a  brute. 
I  offered  him  all  the  silver  in  my  pocket.  I  had  set  my 
heart  upon  the  thing,  my  dear  Charles  Matthews.  I 
couldn't  have  eaten  anything  else,  my  dear  boy,  so  what 
do  you  think  I  did?  Don't  be  angry,  Charles,  don't  be 
angry;  a  man  like  yourself  can  have  no  idea  what  I  feel, 
who  want  little  delicacies  to  keep  up  my  stamina.  My 
dear  Charles,  the  man  was  unfeeling,  nothing  could 
move  him;  I  waited  till  he  left  the  door  and  then  I  went 
into  the  larder  and  took  the  pork,  and  left  double  the 
value  in  its  place!" 

Mrs.  Carlyle,  in  a  letter  to  a  friend,  describes  her 
coaching  experiences  in  September  1836. 

"I  got  into  the  mail  the  other  night  with  as  much 
repugnance  and  trepidation  as  if  it  had  been  a  Phalaris' 
brazen  bull,  instead  of  a  Christian  vehicle,  invented  for 
purposes  of  mercy — not  of  cruelty.  There  were  three 
besides  myself  when  we  started,  but  two  dropped  off 
at  the  end  of  the  first  stage,  and  the  rest  of  the  way 
I  had  as  usual  half  the  coach  to  myself.  My  fellow 
passenger  had  that  highest  of  terrestrial  qualities, 
which  for  me  a  fellow  passenger  can  possess — he  was 
silent.  I  think  his  name  was  Roscoe,  and  he  read  sundry 
long  papers  to  himself,  with  the  pondering  air  of  a 
lawyer. 

"We  breakfasted  at  Lichfield  at  five  in  the  morning, 
on  muddy  coffee  and  scorched  toast,  which  made  me 
once  more  lyrically  recognize  in  my  heart  (not  without 
a  sigh  of  regret)  the  very  different  coffee  and  toast  with 
which  you  helped  me  out  of  my  headache.  At  two 
there  was  another  stop  for  ten  minutes,  that  might  be 
employed    in    lunching   or    otherwise.  Feeling    myself 


TRAVELLERS'  EXPERIENCES       225 

more  fevered  than  hungry,  I  determined  on  spending 
the  time  in  combing  my  hair,  and  washing  my  face 
and  hands  with  vinegar.  In  the  midst  of  this  solacing 
operation  I  heard  what  seemed  to  be  the  mail  running 
its  rapid  course,  and  quick  as  lightning  it  flashed  on  me, 
*There  it  goes!  and  my  luggage  is  on  the  top  of  it,  and 
my  purse  is  in  the  pocket  of  it,  and  here  am  I  stranded 
on  an  unknown  beach,  without  so  much  as  a  sixpence 
in  my  pocket  to  pay  for  the  vinegar  I  have  already 
consumed!'  Without  my  bonnet,  my  hair  hanging 
down  my  back,  my  face  half  dried,  and  the  towel  with 
which  I  was  drying  it  firmly  grasped  in  my  hand,  I 
dashed  out — along,  down,  opening  wrong  doors, 
stumbling  over  steps,  cursing  the  day  I  was  born,  still 
more  the  day  on  which  I  took  a  notion  to  travel,  and 
arrived  finally  at  the  bar  of  the  inn,  in  a  state  of  excite- 
ment bordering  on  lunacy.  The  barmaids  looked  on  me 
with  wonder  and  amazement.  'Is  the  coach  gone?'  I 
gasped  out.  'The  coach?  yes!'  'Oh,  and  you  have  let  it 
go  away  without  me!  Oh!  stop  it,  cannot  you  stop  it?' 
and  out  I  rushed  into  the  street,  with  streaming  hair 
and  streaming  towel,  and  almost  brained  myself  against — 
the  mail!  which  was  standing  there  in  all  stillness, 
without  so  much  as  horses  in  it!  What  I  heard  was  a 
heavy  coach.  And  now,  having  descended  like  a  maniac, 
I  ascended  again  like  a  fool,  and  dried  the  other  half  of 
my  face,  and  put  on  my  bonnet,  and  came  back  a  sadder 
and  wiser  woman." 

In  the  year  1830  speculation  as  to  the  railway  was 
rife,  and  Charles  Lamb  travelled  with  a  talkative  gentle- 
man who  for  twenty  miles  discussed  "the  probable 
advantages  of  steam  carriages."  Lamb  knew  nothing  of 
the  subjeft,  but  as  it  was  one  in  which  wild  speculation 
15 


226  THE   COACHING  ERA 

and  vivid  imagination  might  v^^ell  pass  for  erudition  he 
sustained  his  part  with  credit,  and  the  gentleman 
"thought  he  had  met  with  a  well-informed  passenger, 
which  is  an  accident  so  desirable  on  a  stage-coach." 

Unfortunately,  when  the  topic  of  railways  was 
exhausted  he  changed  the  subje6l  with  some  suddenness 
by  asking  "the  probability  of  its  turning  out  a  good 
turnip  season."  Lamb,  "not  knowing  a  turnip  from  a 
potato,"  replied  glibly,  and  with  seeming  irrelevance: 
"I  believe  it  depends  very  much  upon  boiled  legs  of 
mutton."  A  reply  which  astounded  the  gentleman  and 
set  the  other  passengers  laughing. 


CHAPTER  XV  TWO  FOREIGNERS  ON 

COACHING 

TWO  good  accounts  of  stage-coach  travelling 
— one  for  and  the  other  against — were  written 
by  foreigners,  who  regarded  English  customs 
with  interested  and  critical  eyes.  Both,  being 
possessed  of  fluent  pens,  wrote  vivid  accounts  of  their 
journeys  and  their  associates  by  the  way.  The  men  were 
Charles  Moritz,  a  Prussian  clergyman  who  visited 
England  in  1782,  and  considered  coaching  abhorrent; 
and  Washington  Irving,  an  American,  who  came  over 
in  1 815,  and  saw  in  the  stage-coach  a  joyous  and  delightful 
thing. 

Moritz  was  the  forerunner  of  the  modern  tourist, 
for  he  came  to  England  on  a  brief  visit,  determined 
to  probe  our  national  charafter  to  the  depths.  He  noted 
down  everything  that  struck  him  as  new  or  unusual, 
for  the  edification  of  his  Prussian  friends.  Though  his 
feelings  on  the  subjeft  speedily  changed,  he  was  at  first 
diisposed  to  regard  the  stage-coaches  rather  favourably. 

"Yesterday  afternoon  I  had  the  luxury,  for  the  first 
time,  of  being  driven  in  an  English  stage.  These  coaches 
are,  at  least  in  the  eyes  of  a  foreigner,  quite  elegant, 
lined  in  the  inside;  and  with  two  seats  large  enough 
to  accommodate  six  persons;  but  it  must  be  owned, 
when  the  carriage  is  full,  the  company  are  rather 
crowded. 

"At  the  White  Hart  from  whence  the  coach  sets 

out,  there  was,  at  first,  only  an  elderly  lady  who  got 

in,  but  as_^we  drove  along,  it  was  soon  filled,  and  mostly 

237 


228  THE   COACHING  ERA 

by  ladies,  there  being  only  one  more  gentleman  and 
myself.  The  conversation  of  the  ladies  among  them- 
selves, who  appeared  to  be  a  little  acquainted  with 
each  other,  seemed  to  me  to  be  but  very  insipid  and 
tiresome." 

"The  gentleman,  by  way  of  introducing  an  appro- 
priate topic,  proceeded  to  relate  hair  raising  stories 
of  the  different  robberies  which  had  been  committed 
in  the  neighbourhood  through  which  the  coach  was 
then  passing.  These  blood  curdling  revelations  alarmed 
the  ladies,  when  the  gentleman  by  way  of  soothing 
their  fears,  and  at  the  same  time  proving  to  Moritz 
the  incalculable  superiority  of  everything  English, 
dilated  at  length  on  'the  greatness  of  soul'  displayed  by 
English  thieves  compared  to  their  low  counterparts 
on  the  Continent. 

"But  to  return  to  our  stage,"  says  Moritz,  after 
making  copious  notes  on  highwaymen,  "I  must  observe, 
that  they  have  here  a  curious  way  of  riding,  not  in,  but 
upon  the  stage-coach.  Persons  to  whom  it  is  not  con- 
venient to  pay  a  full  price,  instead  of  the  inside,  sit 
on  the  top  of  the  coach,  without  any  seats  or  even  a 
rail.  By  what  means  passengers  thus  fasten  themselves 
securely  on  the  roof  of  the  vehicles,  I  know  not;  but 
you  constantly  see  numbers  seated  there,  apparently 
at  their  ease,  and  in  perfedl  safety. 

"This  they  call  riding  on  the  outside;  for  which  they 
pay  only  half  as  much  as  those  pay  who  are  within: 
we  had  at  present  six  of  these  passengers  over  our  heads, 
who,  when  we  alighted,  frequently  made  such  a  noise 
and  bustle,  as  sometimes  almost  frightened  us.  He  who 
can  properly  balance  himself,  rides  not  incommodiously 
on  the  outside;  and  in  the  summer  time,  in  fine  weather, 
on  account  of  the  prospers,  it  certainly  is  more  pleasant 
than  it  is  inside,  excepting  that  the  company  is  generally 


TWO   FOREIGNERS   ON   COACHING    229 

low,  and  the  dust  Is  likewise  more  troublesome  than  in 
the  inside,  where,  at  any  rate,  you  may  draw  up  the 
windows  according  to  your  pleasure." 

Moritz  paid  two  shillings  as  coach  fare  from  London 
to  Richmond,  from  whence  after  a  short  visit  he  started 
to  walk  to  Oxford  on  foot.  He  met  with  such  scant 
civility  at  the  inns  and  villages  on  the  road  that  he 
came  to  the  conclusion  that  the  English  were  not  a 
nation  of  shopkeepers  but  of  horsemen: 

"To  what  various,  singular,  and  unaccountable 
fatalities  and  adventures  are  not  foot-travellers  exposed 
in  this  land  of  carriages  and  horses!  ...  A  traveller  on 
foot  in  this  country  seems  to  be  considered  a  sort  of 
wild  man,  or  out-of-the-way  being,  who  is  stared  at, 
pitied,  suspe6led,  and  shunned  by  everybody  that  meets 
him.  At  least  this  has  hitherto  been  my  case,  on  the 
road  from  Richmond  to  Windsor." 

Moritz  put  up  at  the  Mitre  Hotel  in  Oxford  where 
he  was  well  treated  though  he  came  on  foot,  but  he 
attributed  this  to  the  fa6l  that,  after  a  convivial  evening 
with  some  exceedingly  jovial  clergymen,  he  in  a  moment 
of  expansion  told  the  waiter  that  he  must  not  think 
that  because  he  arrived  on  foot  he  would  tip  less,  but 
quite  the  contrary. 

Moritz  decided  not  to  expose  himself  to  any  more 
insults  as  a  pedestrian,  so  took  a  place  in  the  Birmingham 
stage-coach.  He  had  for  a  companion  a  young  officer 
who  was  going  to  pay  a  visit  to  his  three  sisters  at  school 
in  Birmingham.  Outside  the  coach  were  some  soldiers 


230  THE   COACHING  ERA 

and  their  wives,  and  Moritz  was  much  concerned  for 
the  women's  safety.  That  the  danger  of  their  position 
was  very  real,  he  shortly  afterwards  proved,  for  when 
the  time  came  to  return  to  London  he  took  a  place 
on  the  roof  of  the  Northampton  coach,  and  soon 
repented  the  rashness  that  had  led  him  to  trust  himself 
in  such  a  perilous  position. 

"But  this  ride  from  Leicester  to  Northampton,  I 
shall  remember  as  long  as  I  live,"  he  wrote  tragically. 
"The  coach  drove  from  the  yard  through  a  part  of  the 
house.  The  inside  passengers  got  in,  in  the  yard;  but 
we  on  the  outside  were  obliged  to  clamber  up  in  the 
public  street,  because  we  should  have  had  no  room  for 
our  heads  to  pass  under  the  gateway.  My  companions 
on  the  top  of  the  coach  were  a  farmer,  a  young  man 
very  decently  dressed,  and  a  black-a-moor. 

"The  getting  up  alone  was  at  the  risk  of  one's  life, 
and  when  I  was  up  I  was  obliged  to  sit  just  at  the  corner 
of  the  coach,  with  nothing  to  hold  by,  but  a  sort  of 
little  handle,^  fastened  on  the  side.  I  sat  nearest  the 
wheel;  and  the  moment  that  we  set  off,  I  fancied  that  I 
saw  certain  death  await  me.  All  I  could  do  was  to 
take  still  safer  hold  of  the  handle,  and  to  be  more  and 
more  careful  to  preserve  my  balance. 

"The  machine  now  rolled  along  with  prodigious 
rapidity,  over  the  stones  through  the  town,  and  every 
moment  we  seemed  to  fly  into  the  air;  so  that  it  was 
almost  a  miracle  that  we  still  stuck  to  the  coach,  and 
did  not  fall.  We  seemed  to  be  thus  on  the  wing,  and  to 
fly,  as  often  as  we  passed  through  a  village,  or  went  down 
a  hill. 

^  These  in  the  advertisements  of  the  time  were  called  "Bows 
on  the  top," 


TWO   FOREIGNERS   ON   COACHING    231 

"At  last  the  being  continually  in  fear  of  my  life 
became  insupportable,  and  as  we  were  going  up  a  hill, 
and  consequently  proceeding  rather  slower  than  usual, 
I  crept  from  the  top  of  the  coach,  and  got  snug  into 
the  basket. 

"'O,  sir,  sir,  you  will  be  shaken  to  death,'  said  the 
black;  but  I  flattered  myself  he  exaggerated  the  un- 
pleasantness of  my  post.  As  long  as  we  went  up  hill, 
it  was  easy  and  pleasant.  And,  having  had  little  or  no 
sleep  the  night  before,  I  was  almost  asleep  among  the 
trunks  and  the  packages;  but  how  soon  was  the  case 
altered  when  we  came  to  go  down  hill;  then  all  the 
trunks  and  parcels  began,  as  it  were,  to  dance  around 
me,  and  everything  in  the  basket  seemed  to  be  alive, 
and  I  every  moment  received  from  them  such  violent 
blows  that  I  thought  my  last  hour  was  come.  I  now 
found  that  what  the  black  had  told  me  was  no  ex- 
aggeration; but  my  complaints  were  useless.  I  was 
obliged  to  suffer  this  torture  nearly  an  hour,  till  we 
came  to  another  hill  again,  when  quite  shaken  to  pieces 
and  sadly  bruised,  I  again  crept  to  the  top  of  the  coach, 
and  took  possession  of  my  former  seat.  'Ah!  did  I  not 
tell  you  that  you  would  be  shaken  to  death?'  said  the 
black,  as  I  was  getting  up;  but  I  made  no  reply.  Indeed, 
I  was  ashamed;  and  I  now  write  this  as  a  warning  to  all 
strangers  to  stage-coaches  who  may  happen  to  take  it 
into  their  heads,  without  being  used  to  it,  to  take  a 
place  on  the  outside  of  an  English  post-coach;  and  still 
more,  a  place  in  the  basket.  .  .  . 

"From  Harborough  to  Leicester,  I  had  a  most 
dreadful  journey.  It  rained  incessantly;  and  as  before 
we  had  been  covered  with  dust,  we  now  were  soaked 
with  rain.  My  neighbour,  the  young  man  who  sat  next 
to  me  in  the  middle,  that  my  inconvenience  might  be 
complete,  every  now  and  then  fell  asleep;  and  as,  when 


232  THE   COACHING   ERA 

asleep,  he  perpetually  bolted  and  rolled  against  me, 
with  the  whole  weight  of  his  body,  more  than  once  he 
was  very  near  pushing  me  entirely  off  my  seat." 

When  Moritz  arrived  at  Northampton  he  went 
straight  to  bed,  and  the  next  day  resolved  to  con- 
tinue his  journey  to  London  in  some  other  stage- 
coach. 

"The  journey  from  Northampton  to  London  I  can 
again  scarcely  call  a  journey;  but  rather  a  perpetual 
motion,  or  removal  from  one  place  to  another,  in  a 
close  box;  during  your  conveyance  you  may,  perhaps, 
if  you  are  in  luck,  converse  with  two  or  three  people 
shut  up  with  you.  But  I  was  not  so  fortunate;  for  my 
three  travelling  companions  were  all  farmers,  who  slept 
so  soundly,  that  even  the  hearty  knocks  of  the  head 
with  which  they  often  saluted  each  other,  did  not 
awaken  them. 

"Their  faces,  bloated  and  discoloured  by  their  copious 
use  of  ale  and  brandy,  looked  as  they  lay  before  me, 
like  so  many  lumps  of  dead  flesh.  When  now  and  then 
they  woke,  sheep,  in  which  they  all  dealt,  was  the  first 
and  last  topic  of  their  conversation.  One  of  the  three, 
however,  differed  not  a  little  from  the  other  two;  his 
face  was  sallow  and  thin,  his  eyes  quite  sunk  and  hollow, 
his  long  lank  fingers  hung  quite  loose,  and  as  if  detached 
from  his  hands.  He  was,  in  short,  the  picSlure  of  avarice 
and  misanthropy.  The  former  he  certainly  was;  for  at 
every  stage  he  refused  to  give  the  coachman  the  accus- 
tomed perquisite,  which  everybody  else  paid,  and  every 
farthing  he  was  forced  to  part  with,  forced  a  P — d 
d — m  from  his  heart.  As  he  sat  in  the  coach,  he  seemed 
anxious  to  shun  the  light;  and  so  shut  up  every  window 
he  could  come  at,  except  when  now  and  then  I  opened 


TWO   FOREIGNERS   ON   COACHING    233 

them,  to  take  a  slight  view  of  the  charm  of  the  country- 
through  which  we  seemed  to  be  flying  rather  than 
driving. 

"Our  road  lay  through  Newport — Pagnell,  Dunstable, 
St.  Albans,  Barnet,  to  Islington,  or  rather  to  London 
itself.  ...  At  Dunstable,  if  I  do  not  mistake,  we 
breakfasted,  and  here,  as  is  usual,  everything  was  paid 
for  in  common  by  all  the  passengers;  as  I  did  not  know 
this,  I  ordered  coffee  separately;  however,  when  it  came, 
the  three  farmers  also  drank  of  it,  and  gave  me  some  of 
their  tea.  They  asked  me  what  part  of  the  world  I  came 
from;  whereas  in  Germany  we  generally  inquired,  what 
countryman  a  person  is.  When  we  had  breakfasted,  and 
were  again  seated  in  the  coach,  all  the  farmers,  the  lean 
one  excepted,  seemed  quite  alive  again,  and  now  began 
a  conversation  on  religion  and  on  politics.  One  of  them 
brought  the  history  of  Samson  on  the  carpet,  which  the 
clergyman  of  the  parish,  he  said,  had  lately  explained, 
I  dare  say,  very  satisfactorily;  though  the  honest  farmer 
still  had  a  great  many  doubts  about  the  great  gate  which 
Samson  carried  away,  and  about  the  foxes  with  the 
fire-brands  between  their  tails.  In  other  respefts, 
however,  the  man  seemed  not  to  be  either  uninformed 
or  sceptical. 

"They  now  proceeded  to  relate  to  each  other  various 
stories,  chiefly  out  of  the  Bible;  not  merely  as  important 
fadfs,  but  as  interesting  narratives,  which  they  would 
have  told  and  listened  to  with  equal  satisfadfion  had 
they  met  them  anywhere  else.  One  of  them  had  only 
heard  these  stories  from  his  minister  in  the  church, 
not  being  able  to  read  them  himself.  .  .  . 

"We  now  frequently  took  up  fresh  passengers,  who 
rode  a  short  distance  with  us,  and  then  got  out  again. 
Among  others  was  a  woman  from  London,  whose 
business  was  the  making  of  brandy.  She  entertained  us 


234  THE   COACHING  ERA 

with  a  very  circumstantial  narrative  of  all  the  shocking 
scenes  during  the  late  riot  in  that  city.  .  .  . 

"At  length  we  arrived  at  London  without  any  accident, 
in  a  hard  rain,  about  one  o'clock." 

Moritz  added  that  he  looked  "like  a  crazy  creature" 
after  his  journey,  and  was  most  earnestly  thankful  to 
be  at  the  end  of  it. 

Washington  Irving  says: 

"In  the  course  of  a  December  tour  in  Yorkshire,  I 
rode  for  a  long  distance  in  one  of  the  public  coaches, 
on  the  day  preceding  Christmas.  The  coach  was 
crowded,  both  inside  and  out,  with  passengers,  who, 
by  their  talk,  seemed  principally  bound  to  the  mansions 
of  relations  or  friends,  to  eat  the  Christmas  dinner. 
It  was  loaded  also  with  hampers  of  game,  and  baskets 
and  boxes  of  delicacies;  and  hares  hung  dangling  their 
long  ears  about  the  coachman's  box,  presents  from 
distant  friends  for  the  impending  feast.  I  had  three 
fine,  rosy-cheeked  schoolboys  for  my  fellow  passengers, 
inside,  full  of  the  buxom  health  and  manly  spirit 
which  I  have  observed  in  the  children  of  this  country. 
They  were  returning  home  for  the  holidays  in  fine 
glee,  and  promising  themselves  a  world  of  enjoyment. 
It  was  delightful  to  hear  the  gigantic  plans  of 
the  little  rogues,  and  the  impracticable  feats  they 
were  to  perform  during  their  six  weeks'  emancipa- 
tion from  the  abhorred  thraldom  of  book,  birch,  and 
pedagogue.  They  were  full  of  anticipations  of  the 
meeting  with  the  family  and  household,  down  to  the 
very  cat  and  dog;  and  of  the  joy  they  were  to  give  their 
little  sisters  by  the  presents  with  which  their  pockets 
were  crammed;  but  the  meeting  to  which  they  seemed 


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H 

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TWO   FOREIGNERS   ON   COACHING    235 

to  look  forward  with  the  greatest  impatience  was  with 
Bantam,  which  I  found  to  be  a  pony,  and  according  to 
their  talk,  possessed  of  more  virtues  than  any  steed 
since  the  days  of  Bucephalus.  How  he  could  trot!  how 
he  could  run!  and  then  such  leaps  as  he  would  take — 
there  was  not  a  hedge  in  the  whole  country  that  he 
could  not  clear. 

"They  were  under  the  particular  guardianship  of 
the  coachman,  to  whom,  whenever  an  opportunity 
presented,  they  addressed  a  host  of  questions,  and  pro- 
nounced him  one  of  the  best  fellows  in  the  world. 
Indeed,  I  could  not  but  notice  the  more  than  ordinary 
air  of  bustle  and  importance  of  the  coachman,  who  wore 
his  hat  a  little  on  one  side,  and  had  a  large  bunch  of 
Christmas  greens  stuck  in  the  buttonhole  of  his  coat. 
He  is  always  a  personage  full  of  mighty  care  and  business, 
but  he  is  particularly  so  during  this  season,  having  so 
many  commissions  to  execute  in  consequence  of  the 
great  interchange  of  presents.  And  here,  perhaps,  it 
may  not  be  unacceptable  to  my  untravelled  readers 
to  have  a  sketch  that  may  serve  as  a  general  repre- 
sentation of  this  very  numerous  and  important  class 
of  functionaries,  who  have  a  dress,  a  manner,  a  language, 
an  air,  peculiar  to  themselves,  and  prevalent  throughout 
the  fraternity;  so  that,  wherever  an  English  stage-coach- 
man may  be  seen,  he  cannot  be  mistaken  for  one  of  any 
other  craft  or  mystery. 

"He  has  commonly  a  broad,  full  face,  curiously 
mottled  with  red,  as  if  the  blood  had  been  forced  by 
hard  feeding  into  every  vessel  of  the  skin;  he  is  swelled 
into  jolly  dimensions  by  frequent  potations  of  malt 
liquors,  and  his  bulk  is  still  further  increased  by  a  multi- 
plicity of  coats,  in  which  he  is  buried  like  a  cauliflower, 
the  upper  one  reaching  to  his  heels.  He  wears  a  broad- 
brimmed,  low-crowned  hat;   a  huge  roll  of  coloured 


236  THE   COACHING  ERA 

handkerchief  about  his  neck,  knowingly  knotted  and 
tucked  in  at  the  bosom;  and  has  in  summer  time  a  large 
bouquet  of  flowers  in  his  buttonhole;  the  present,  most 
probably,  of  some  enamoured  country  lass.  His  waist- 
coat is  commonly  of  some  bright  colour,  striped,  and 
his  smallclothes  extend  far  below  the  knees,  to  meet 
a  pair  of  jockey-boots  which  reach  about  half-way  up  his 

legs. 

"All  this  costume  is  maintained  with  much  precision; 
he  has  a  pride  in  having  his  clothes  of  excellent  materials; 
and,  notwithstanding  the  seeming  grossness  of  his 
appearance,  there  is  still  discernible  that  neatness  and 
propriety  of  person  which  is  almost  inherent  in  an 
Englishman.  He  enjoys  great  consequence  and  con- 
sideration along  the  road;  has  frequent  conferences 
with  the  village  housewives,  who  look  upon  him  as  a 
man  of  great  trust  and  dependence;  and  he  seems  to 
have  a  good  understanding  with  every  bright-eyed 
country  lass.  The  moment  he  arrives  where  the  horses 
are  to  be  changed,  he  throws  down  the  reins  with  some- 
thing of  an  air,  and  abandons  the  cattle  to  the  care  of  the 
ostler;  his  duty  being  merely  to  drive  from  one  stage 
to  another.  When  off  the  box,  his  hands  are  thrust 
into  the  pockets  of  his  greatcoat,  and  he  rolls  about  the 
inn  yard  with  an  air  of  the  most  absolute  lordliness. 
Here  he  is  generally  surrounded  by  an  admiring  throng 
of  ostlers,  stable-boys,  shoeblacks,  and  those  nameless 
hangers-on  that  infest  inns  and  taverns,  and  run  errands, 
and  do  all  kinds  of  odd  jobs,  for  the  privilege  of  batten- 
ing on  the  drippings  of  the  kitchen  and  the  leakage  of 
the  taproom.  These  all  look  up  to  him  as  to  an  oracle; 
treasure  up  his  cant  phrases;  echo  his  opinions  about 
horses  and  other  topics  of  jockey  lore;  and  above  all, 
endeavour  to  imitate  his  air  and  carriage.  Every  raga- 
muffin that  has  a  coat  to  his  back  thrusts  his  hands  in 


TWO   FOREIGNERS   ON   COACHING    237 

the  pockets,  rolls  in  his  gait,  talks  slang,  and  is  an  embryo 
Coachey. 

"Perhaps  it  might  be  owing  to  the  pleasant  serenity 
that  reigned  in  my  own  mind,  that  I  fancied  I  saw 
cheerfulness  in  every  countenance  throughout  the 
journey.  A  stage-coach,  however,  carries  animation 
always  with  it,  and  puts  the  world  in  motion  as  it 
whirls  along.  The  horn,  sounded  at  the  entrance  of  a 
village,  produces  a  general  bustle.  Some  hasten  forth 
to  meet  friends,  some  with  bundles  and  bandboxes 
to  secure  places,  and  in  the  hurry  of  the  moment  can 
hardly  take  leave  of  the  group  that  accompanies  them. 
In  the  meantime  the  coachman  has  a  world  of  small 
commissions  to  execute.  Sometimes  he  delivers  a  hare 
or  pheasant;  sometimes  jerks  a  small  parcel  or  newspaper 
to  the  door  of  a  public-house,  and  sometimes,  with 
knowing  leer  and  words  of  sly  import,  hands  to  some 
half-blushing,  half-laughing  housemaid  an  odd-shaped 
billet-doux  from  some  rustic  admirer.  As  the  coach 
rattles  through  the  village,  every  one  runs  to  the  window, 
and  you  have  glances  on  every  side  of  fresh  country 
faces  and  blooming  giggling  girls.  At  the  corners  are 
assembled  juntos  of  village  idlers  and  wise  men,  who 
take  their  stations  there  for  the  important  purpose 
of  seeing  company  pass;  but  the  sagest  knot  is  generally 
at  the  blacksmith's,  to  whom  the  passing  of  the  coach 
is  an  event  fruitful  of  much  speculation.  The  smith, 
with  the  horse's  heel  in  his  lap,  pauses  as  the  vehicle 
whirls  by;  the  cyclops  round  the  anvil  suspend  their 
ringing  hammers,  and  suffer  the  iron  to  grow  cool;  and 
the  sooty  speftre  in  brown  paper  cap,  labouring  at  the 
bellows,  leans  on  the  handle  for  a  moment,  and  permits 
the  asthmatic  engine  to  heave  a  long-drawn  sigh,  while 
he  glares  through  the  murky  smoke  and  sulphurous 
gleams  of  the  smithy. 


238  THE   COACHING  ERA 

"Perhaps  the  impending  hoHday  might  have  given 
a  more  than  usual  animation  to  the  country,  for  it 
seemed  to  me  as  if  everybody  was  in  good  spirits.  Game, 
poultry,  and  other  luxuries  of  the  table,  were  in  brisk 
circulation  in  the  villages;  the  grocers',  butchers',  and 
fruiterers'  shops  were  thronged  with  customers.  The 
housewives  were  stirring  briskly  about,  putting  their 
dwellings  in  order;  and  the  glossy  branches  of  holly, 
with  their  bright  berries,  began  to  appear  at  the 
windows.  .  .  . 

"I  was  roused  from  this  fit  of  luxurious  meditation 
by  a  shout  from  my  little  travelling  companions.  They 
had  been  looking  out  of  the  coach  windows  for  the 
last  few  m'les,  recognizing  every  tree  and  cottage  as 
they  approached  home,  and  now  there  was  a  general 
outburst  of  joy — 'There's  John;  and  there's  old  Carlo! 
and  there's  Bantam!'  cried  the  happy  little  rogues, 
clapping  their  hands. 

"At  the  end  of  the  lane  there  was  an  old  sober- 
looking  servant  in  livery,  waiting  for  them;  he  was 
accompanied  by  a  superannuated  pointer,  and  by  the 
redoubtable  Bantam,  a  little  old  rat  of  a  pony,  with  a 
shaggy  mane  and  long  rusty  tail,  who  stood  dozing 
quietly  by  the  roadside,  little  dreaming  of  the  bustling 
time  that  awaited  him. 

"I  was  pleased  to  see  the  fondness  with  which  the 
little  fellows  leaped  upon  the  steady  old  footman,  and 
hugged  the  pointer,  who  wriggled  his  whole  body  for 
joy.  But  Bantam  was  the  great  objeft  of  interest;  all 
wanted  to  mount  at  once,  and  it  was  with  some  diffi- 
culty that  John  arranged  that  they  should  ride  by  turns, 
and  the  eldest  should  ride  first. 

"Off  they  set  at  last;  one  on  the  pony,  with  the  dog 
bounding  and  barking  before  him,  and  the  others 
holding  John's  hands;  both  talking  at  once,  and  over- 


TWO   FOREIGNERS   ON   COACHING    239 

powering  him  with  questions  about  home,  and  with 
school  anecdotes.  I  looked  after  them  with  a  feeling  in 
which  I  do  not  know  whether  pleasure  or  melancholy- 
predominated;  for  I  was  reminded  of  those  days  when, 
like  them,  I  had  neither  known  care  nor  sorrow,  and  a 
holiday  was  the  summit  of  earthly  felicity.  We  stopped 
a  few  minutes  afterwards  to  water  the  horses,  and  on 
resuming  our  route,  a  turn  of  the  road  brought  us  in 
sight  of  a  neat  country  seat.  I  could  just  distinguish 
the  forms  of  a  lady  and  two  young  girls  in  the  portico, 
and  I  saw  my  little  comrades,  with  Bantam,  Carlo  and 
old  John,  trooping  along  the  carriage  road.  I  leaned  out 
of  the  coach  window  in  hopes  of  witnessing  the  happy 
meeting,  but  a  grove  of  trees  shut  it  from  my  sight. 

"In  the  evening  we  reached  a  village  where  I  had 
determined  to  pass  the  night.  As  we  drove  into  the 
great  gateway  of  the  inn,  I  saw  on  one  side  the  light  of 
a  rousing  kitchen  fire  beaming  through  a  window.  I 
entered,  and  admired,  for  the  hundredth  time,  that 
pidlure  of  convenience,  neatness  and  broad,  honest 
enjoyment,  the  kitchen  of  an  English  inn.  It  was  of 
spacious  dimensions,  hung  round  with  copper  and  tin 
vessels  highly  polished,  and  decorated  here  and  there 
with  a  Christmas  green.  Hams,  tongues,  and  flitches 
of  bacon,  were  suspended  from  the  ceiling;  a  smoke- 
jack  made  its  ceaseless  clanking  beside  the  fire-place, 
and  a  clock  ticked  in  one  corner.  A  well-scoured  deal 
table  extended  along  one  side  of  the  kitchen,  with  a  cold 
round  of  beef  and  other  hearty  viands  upon  it,  over 
which  two  foaming  tankards  of  ale  seemed  mounting 
guard.  Travellers  of  inferior  order  were  preparing  to 
attack  this  stout  repast,  while  others  sat  smoking  and 
gossiping  over  their  ale  on  two  high-backed  oaken 
settles  beside  the  fire.  Trim  housema  ds  were  hurrying 
backwards  and  forwards  under  the  direction  of  a  fresh 


240  THE   COACHING  ERA 

bustling  landlady;  but  still  seizing  an  occasional  moment 
to  exchange  a  flippant  word,  and  have  a  rallying  laugh 
with  the  group  round  the  fire.  The  scene  completely 
realized  Poor  Robin's  idea  of  the  comforts  of  mid- 
winter: 

"Now  trees  their  leafy  hats  do  bare 
To  reverence  Winter's  silver  hair; 
A  handsome  hostess,  merry  host, 
A  pot  of  ale  now  and  a  toast, 
Tobacco  and  a  good  coal  fire, 
Are  things  this  season  doth  require." 


CHAPTER  XVI  THE  COMING  OF  THE 

RAILWAY 

THE  introdu6lion  of  steam  as  a  means  of 
transport  was  an  innovation  that  swept  the 
coaches  right  off  the  road  and  irretrievably 
destroyed  them.  It  was  not  merely  a  read- 
justment of  an  existing  system  as  the  mail-coaches  had 
been,  but  the  substitution  of  an  entirely  new  order  of 
things  which  revolutionized  travel,  and  cut,  as  it  were, 
a  sharp  dividing  line  between  the  leisurely  day  of 
our  forefathers  and  the  modern  hustling,  hurrying  age. 
When  it  was  first  suggested  that  steam  should  be 
utilized  for  draught  purposes  in  place  of  horses,  the 
idea  occasioned  much  merriment  down  the  road.  The 
coachmen  in  particular  regarded  it  as  a  huge  joke:  "The 
tin  kettle  drive  us  off  the  road!"  they  would  exclaim 
with  hearty  guffaws  of  laughter  at  the  very  presumption 
of  the  thing.  "It  can  never  come  to  pass,"  they  declared 
emphatically,  "no  country  in  the  world  has  such 
travelling  as  we  have;  what  do  we  want  with  railways?" 

With  coaches  running  twelve  miles  an  hour,  what 
more  could  men  desire?  "If  that  isn't  fast  enough  for 
them,  let  them  get  out  and  run,"  said  the  swell  drags- 
men  with  withering  scorn.  Whilst,  "If  your  head  never 
aches  till  the  railways  come,  you  won't  have  much  to 
complain  of,"  was  a  favourite  retort  to  anyone  who 
thought  "there  might  be  something  in  it." 

As  a  matter  of  fa6l,  the  railways  came  into  existence 

at  a  critical  time,  for  with  the  introdudion  of  the  penny 
i6 


242  THE   COACHING  ERA 

post  in  1840  the  national  correspondence  increased  so 
enormously  that  the  Post  Office  officials  were  at  their 
wits'  end  to  know  how  to  cope  with  it.  The  heaviest 
nights  were  those  when  the  American  mails  came  in, 
and  on  such  occasions  the  bags  often  weighed  as  much 
as  16  cwt.  When  this  was  the  case,  the  capacity  of  the 
mail-box  proved  hopelessly  insufficient,  so  the  mail- 
bags  had  to  be  piled  up  on  the  roof,  and  fewer  passengers 
could  be  carried  in  consequence. 

The  contra6lors  too,  owing  to  increased  competition 
with  the  fast  day  coaches,  evinced  a  growing  disinclina- 
tion to  carry  the  mails.  Instead  of  evincing  anxiety  for 
the  privilege  because  it  exempted  the  coaches  from 
turnpike  tolls,  they  demanded  better  contrails.  The 
Oxford  and  Cheltenham  coach,  which  had  previously 
carried  the  mails  free,  put  in  a  claim  for  ;^I50  in  addition 
to  the  turnpike  dues,  and  this  was  paid  by  the  Post 
Office  till  the  coach  ceased  to  run. 

When  it  dawned  on  the  country  that  railways,  so  far 
from  being  a  mere  fallacy,  were  about  to  become  an 
important  institution,  it  was  startled  from  its  position 
of  smug  superiority,  and  endeavoured  ineffeftually  to 
drive  the  steam  kettle  from  the  land. 

The  railway  question  became  the  chief  topic  of 
conversation,  and  the  country  was  divided  into  two 
fa6lions:  for  and  against.  The  columns  of  contemporary 
newspapers  were  the  fields  where  the  partisans  of  coach 
and  railway  fought  their  battles,  and  said  exceeding 
bitter  things  of  each  other. 

Whole   towns  with   a   blind    disregard   for   futurity 


THE   COMING   OF   THE   RAILWAY      243 

rose  up  unanimous  in  determination  to  have  no  railroad 
near  them  if  they  could  help  it.  Eton  was  positive  its 
famous  school  would  be  ruined  if  the  proposed  Great 
Western  line  came  anywhere  near  it.  The  authorities  of 
Oxford  even  declared  that  if  the  proposed  station  was 
erefted  parents  would  cease  to  send  their  sons  to  the 
University.  Railways  might  be  all  very  well  for  places 
like  Manchester  or  Liverpool,  but  "there  was  no  trade 
to  Oxford  to  justify  or  require  so  rapid  a  communica- 
tion," and  that  it  was  never  supposed  that  people  would 
want  to  travel  "like  the  wind  from  north  to  south, 
from  east  to  west."  The  Mayor  in  1838  said  "he  con- 
sidered it  most  unjust  and  cruel  that  year  after  year 
the  city  should  be  taxed  to  oppose  a  bill  so  unjustifiable 
and  so  uncalled  for." 

Despite  opposition  the  G.W.R.  crept  on  and  in 
April  1839  the  newspapers  reported: 

The  Opening  of  the  Line  to  Reading 

"The  town  of  Reading,  on  Monday  last,  was  much 
enlivened  from  an  early  hour  in  the  morning,  in  conse- 
quence of  the  extension  of  the  railroad  to  that  place; 
numbers  flocked  from  the  surrounding  country,  and 
the  town  had  the  appearance  of  a  grand  holiday.  Many 
of  the  inhabitants  availed  themselves  of  a  cheap  and 
expeditious  ride  to  Twyf ord;  some  went  as  far  as  Maiden- 
head and  Slough;  and  a  few  aftually  went  by  the  first 
train  to  London,  and  back  again  to  breakfast  before 
10  o'clock.  The  station  was  thronged  the  whole  of  the 
day  by  respedably  dressed  persons  eager  to  view  the 
arrival  and  departure  of  the  trains.  The  extreme  beauty 


244  THE   COACHING  ERA 

of  the  first  spring  day — the  splendid  scenery  the  station 
commands — the  presence  of  hundreds  of  elegantly 
dressed  females  rendered  the  whole  proceedings  of  a 
highly  interesting  nature." 

So  far  back  as  1791  Dr.  Erasmus  Darwin  had  pub- 
lished a  remarkable  prophecy,  foretelling  not  only 
railways  and  motor-cars,  but  also  aeroplanes. 

"Soon  shall  thy  arm  unconquered  steam  afar 
Drag  the  slow  barge,  or  drive  the  rapid  car; 
Or  on  wide,  waving  wings  expanded  bear 
The  flying  chariot  through  the  fields  of  air. 
Fair  crews  triumphant,  leaning  from  above, 
Shall  wave  the  flutt'ring  kerchiefs  as  they  move; 
Or  warrior  bands  alarm  the  gaping  crowd, 
And  armies  shrink  beneath  the  shadowy  cloud." 

By  1836  the  victory  of  steam  over  horse  seemed 
certain,  and  one  writer  was  moved  to  prophesy  what 
changes  would  have  taken  place  in  so  short  a  period  as 
seven  years. 

"Imagine  the  surprise  of  an  Englishman  coming  to 
London  (from  a  tour  in  terra  incognita)  in  the  year 
1843.  By  that  time  the  adoption  of  the  new  plan  will 
be  universal,  and  every  description  of  wheeled  carriage 
will  be  propelled  by  steam.  What  an  interesting  change 
will  have  taken  place  in  the  aspe6l  and  arrangements 
of  the  metropolis!  Fuel,  not  horses,  being  the  medium  of 
impulse.  The  property  of  all  public  vehicles  will  natur- 
ally have  changed  hands;  the  Golden  Cross,  the  Bull  and 
Mouth,  and  the  Cross  Keys,  will  have  ceased  to  exist! 
and  the  stage-coaches  will  be  found  setting  off  probably 


THE   COMING   OF   THE   RAILWAY     245 

from  the  magazines  of  our  leading  coal  merchants — 
from  The  Old  Barge  House,  Broken  Wharf,  Custom 
House  and  the  dark  arch  under  the  Adelphi.  Then  the 
change  in  the  detail  of  the  road  will  be  very  whimsical 
at  first.  Instead  of  calling  as  now,  for  fresh  horses,  at 
a  post  town,  we  shall  have  only  to  call  for  a  fresh  scuttle 
of  coals!  Our  coachmen  will  flourish  huge  pokers, 
instead  of  long  whips.  A  very  steep  hill  which  would 
require  an  extra  pair  of  nags,  will  then  be  met  with  the 
assistance  of  an  extra  pair  of  bellows,  and  as  no  thief 
would  touch  a  steam  coach  for  fear  of  burning  his 
fingers,  the  guard  to  prevent  accidents  will  carry  a  wet 
mop  rather  than  a  pistol.  There  would  be  some  diffi- 
culty no  doubt  in  the  infancy  of  these  arrangements, 
the  turnpike  a6ls  for  instance  would  in  most  cases  be 
eluded;  and  the  Post  House  duty,  would  be  likely  to 
become  unprodudfive.  Impositions  as  well  as  improve- 
ments would  be  likely  to  take  place  as  the  system 
advanced.  Any  smoke  which  proceeded  from  the  furnace 
of  the  vehicle  would  (converted  into  gas)  serve  in  time 
to  dire6l  its  progress.  The  heat  of  the  fire  might  perhaps 
be  a  little  inconvenient  in  summer;  but  (to  outside 
passengers  especially)  in  winter  it  would  be  an  advantage. 
And  with  resped:  to  the  possibility  of  an  occasional 
blow  up,  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  as  soon  as  the 
scheme  gets  into  praftice,  any  one  of  the  insurance 
companies  for  a  reasonable  premium  will  guarantee, 
at  so  much  per  mile,  the  lives  of  steam  passengers;  and 
such  insurance  might  either  be  made  a  subjedl  of  separate 
contract  with  the  individual,  or  it  might  be  done  gener- 
ally by  the  coach  proprietor  and  included  in  the  fare." 

The  writer  in  common  with  the  rest  of  his  generation 
was  obsessed  with  the  idea  that  trains  and  all  steam 
propelled  vehicles  must  inevitably  be  fashioned  after 


246  THE   COACHING  ERA 

the  pattern  of  horse  carriages,  no  matter  how  greatly 
the  motive  power  might  differ. 

Looking  back,  it  seems  surprising  that  motor-cars 
should  have  tarried  so  long  after  the  railways,  for,  but 
for  an  Act  of  Parliament,  which  raised  the  turnpike 
dues  for  steam  carriages  to  prohibitive  heights,  they 
would  probably  have  preceded  railways. 

So  far  back  as  1800  inventors  had  turned  their  atten- 
tion to  the  subjeft,  and  steam  carriages  of  one  kind  or 
another  were  put  on  the  road  from  time  to  time. 
Walter  Handcock,  who  in  1836  had  three  steam  omni- 
buses running  between  Paddington  and  the  city,  had 
a  great  idea  of  running  a  regular  service  to  Brighton  and 
back.  Even  earlier,  from  February  to  June  1831  a 
steam  carriage  ran  four  times  a  day  between  Cheltenham 
and  Gloucester.  Colonel  Maceroni  advertised  that  he 
would  take  passengers  in  his  new  invention  out  to 
Harrow  and  give  them  a  good  dinner  into  the  bargain. 
His  steam  carriages  went  on  an  average  of  twenty  miles 
an  hour,  and  for  a  time  carried  passengers  between 
Paddington  and  the  Bank. 

Sir  Goldsworthy  Gurney,  who  lost  a  fortune  over 
his  attempts  to  perfed  the  new  mode  of  transport, 
once  had  the  Duke  of  Wellington  for  a  passenger,  but 
even  such  august  patronage  did  not  popularize  the 
new  innovation.  Steam  carriages  terrified  the  country 
people,  who,  when  they  conveniently  could,  stoned  the 
inventor,  and  wrecked  his  machinery,  being  firmly 
convinced  that  it  was  the  innovation  of  his  Satanic 
Majesty  himself. 


THE   COMING   OF  THE   RAILWAY     247 

A  turnpike  keeper  seeing  a  steam  carriage  for  the 
first  time,  threw  open  his  gates  in  dismay. 

"How  much  toll?"  asked  the  driver. 

"There's  nothing  to  pay,  nothing  at  all,  my  dear 
Mister  Devil,  I  assure  you,  only  please  drive  on  as  fast 
as  ever  you  can,"  quavered  the  terror-stricken  gate- 
keeper. 

Steam  carriages  were  liable  to  a  good  many  accidents, 
so  that  wits  and  poets  waxed  humorous  at  their  expense: 

"Instead  of  journeys,  people  now 

May  go  upon  a  Gurney, 
With  steam  to  do  the  horses'  work 

By  power  of  Attorney. 

Tho'  with  a  load  it  may  explode, 

And  you  may  all  be  undone; 
And  find  you're  going  up  to  Heaven, 

Instead  of  up  to  London." 

A  correspondent  of  the  Sporting  Magazine  for  1839 
gravely  discussed  the  pros  and  cons  of  railway  travelling, 
and  delivered  himself  thus:  "When  once  the  novelty 
has  subsided  we  shall  seldom  hear  of  a  gentleman  con- 
descending to  travel  to  assume  this  hasty  mode  of 
transit,  compatible  only  with  men  of  business  and 
merchantile  travellers."  One  of  the  charges  that  he 
urged  against  the  railways  was  their  unpundluality 
as  compared  to  the  coaches,  but  what  he  regarded  as  a 
bitter  and  insurmountable  objeftion  was  the  fa£l  that 
travellers  by  rail  were  unable  to  keep  their  luggage 
under  their  dire6l  supervision.  When  going  by  coach 


248  THE   COACHING  ERA 

they  could  see  their  luggage  aftually  put  into  the  boot, 
but  such  was  the  haughty  arrogance  of  the  railway 
officials  that  on  a  railway  journey  travellers  and  their 
luggage  were  separated  in  the  most  heartless  manner. 
"Let  a  person  have  an  opportunity  of  keeping  his 
property  in  view,"  said  the  writer  in  all  seriousness,  and 
was  really  of  the  opinion  that,  until  such  a  contingency 
was  provided  for,  railways  could  never  hope  to  succeed. 

The  opening  of  the  Newcastle  and  Carlisle  Railway 
in  1838  occasioned  many  doubts  as  to  the  success  of  the 
new  venture,  for,  still  struggling  with  the  precedent 
of  the  coaches,  a  procession  of  trains  was  arranged  to 
celebrate  the  occasion.  All  the  engines  belonging  to  the 
company  were  called  into  use,  and  open  trucks  provided 
with  seats  coupled  to  them  for  the  accommodation 
of  the  intrepid  company  who  were  prepared  to  risk 
their  lives  on  such  an  auspicious  occasion.  The  start 
was  timed  for  eleven,  but  it  was  long  past  that  hour 
before  a  move  was  made,  and  eventually  the  procession 
of  trains  accomplished  their  journey  of  sixty  miles 
in  three  hours  and  twenty  minutes. 

Colonel  Peter  Hawley,  author  of  the  sporting  classic. 
Instructions  to  Toung  Sportsmen,  has  left  an  account  of  his 
first  railway  journey,  when,  presumably  because  he 
always  travelled  on  the  outside  of  a  coach,  he  determined 
to  go  on  the  top  of  a  railway  carriage,  so  that  it  is  little 
wonder  that  he  found  the  experience  rather  terrifying. 

"I  was  by  my  own  choice,  allowed  to  leave  my  seat  and 
to  be  perched  on  the  summit  of  the  mail  carriage,  where 


THE   COMING   OF  THE   RAILWAY     249 

I  had  to  lower  my  head  on  entering  the  subterraneous 
causeway.  Fortunately  I  had  a  pair  of  speftacles,  and 
by  shipping  them  I  had  such  an  awful  view  of  the  whole 
concern  as  no  other  place  could  have  afforded.  But 
had  I  not  been  provided  with  these,  my  eyes  could  never 
have  borne  the  intense  current  of  air  and  the  occasional 
volley  of  black  dust  that  flew  from  the  engine.  The 
guard  of  the  mail  has  a  place  on  purpose  with  his  back 
to  the  train,  and  well  sheltered  by  his  letter  box.  I  am 
delighted  at  having  sat  where  I  did,  now,  thank  God, 
it  is  safe  over,  but  they'll  not  catch  me  there  again;  it 
was  more  awful  to  me  than  anything  I  have  weathered 
at  sea." 

On  May  22nd,  1838,  the  Post  Office  announced  a  new 
departure: 

"The  mails  to  Holyhead,  Manchester,  Liverpool,  and 
Carlisle,  are  to  be  despatched  to-night  for  the  first  time 
by  the  London  and  Birmingham  Railway.  The  Coaches 
are  to  be  drawn  by  horses  to  the  terminus  at  Euston 
Square,  and  there  to  be  placed  on  trucks  and  so  run 
on  the  railway,  retaining  their  coachmen,  guards, 
passengers,  etc.,  and  only  requiring  horses  when  they 
reach  the  end  of  the  railway  to  proceed  on  to  their 
respeftive  destinations.  Despatching  these  four  mails 
by  this  conveyance  will  accelerate  the  arrival  of  letters 
to  a  great  part  of  England  and  Scotland  by  about  two 
hours." 

During  the  early  days  of  railways  it  did  not  seem 
likely  that  trains  would  have  much  advantage  over  the 
coaches  in  point  of  speed.  In  1824  one  of  George 
Stephenson's    trains    travelled    at    six    miles    an    hour, 


250  THE   COACHING  ERA 

whilst  a  prize  of  five  hundred  pounds  offered  for  the 
best  locomotive  in  1829  was  won  by  The  Rocket,  going 
at  fifteen  miles  an  hour. 

Even  in  1838  it  was  possible  to  send  messengers  to 
overtake  a  fugitive  engine: 

"The  train  left  Maidenhead  at  the  usual  time  with 
the  Thunder  engine,  when  everything  appeared  per- 
fectly safe,  but  about  half-way  between  that  place  and 
Slough  the  passengers  were  surprised  at  suddenly 
finding  the  carriages  not  locomotive  but  stationary, 
the  engine  having  broken  away  and  gone  thundering 
along  by  itself  at  a  most  rapid  pace.  Messengers  were 
immediately  despatched  after  it,  but,  strange  to  say, 
the  engineer  did  not  discover  the  loss  of  his  train  until 
he  had  proceeded  near  four  miles.  The  engine  was  then 
turned  back,  and  the  train  attached  by  means  of  ropes 
(the  fastenings  having  broken  away);  but  between 
Slough  and  West  Drayton  they  also  had  burst  asunder, 
and  the  engineer  on  his  arrival  at  the  latter  station, 
found  he  had  left  the  train  he  did  not  know  where. 
The  engine  was  then  again  turned  back,  and  the  train 
having  been  secured  by  stronger  ropes,  reached  the 
Paddington  terminus  about  nine  o'clock  instead  of 
eight  o'clock,  its  usual  time  of  arriving."^ 

Accidents  like  this  unnerved  the  public,  and  the 
Sovereign  coach  between  Worcester  and  London  after 
being  withdrawn  was  put  on  the  road  again  for  a  short 
time  "in  consequence  of  the  irregularity  of  the  rail- 
road conveyance,  occasioning  it  frequently  to  be  con- 
siderably behind  its  usual  time  of  arrival." 

^  The  Oxford  Journal^  1838. 


5   V. 


JS 

s 


THE   COMING   OF  THE   RAILWAY     251 

Notwithstanding  the  many  disadvantages  under 
which  the  railway  laboured  at  its  commencement,  it 
had  come  to  stay,  and  when  the  initial  difficulty  of 
accurate  time-keeping  had  been  overcome,  and  passengers 
reconciled  to  parting  with  their  luggage,  the  popularity 
of  the  new  method  of  travelling  increased  rapidly. 

Some  coach  proprietors  realizing  that  steam  would 
inevitably  displace  the  coaches,  severed  their  connexion 
with  the  road,  and  threw  in  their  lot  with  the  railways. 
Others  with  stubborn  determination  waged  unequal 
warfare  and  were  ruined.  "Why  are  the  shareholders 
of  a  railway  like  bad  aftors?"  became  a  favourite 
conundrum,  the  answer  being,  "Because  they  ruin  the 
stage  proprietors." 

As  the  network  of  railways  increased,  the  coaches 
were  taken  off  the  road.  The  crack  ones  went  first, 
those  famous  long  distance  coaches  whose  names  had 
become  household  words.  Provincial  coaches  in  out- 
of-the-way  distri6fs  had  longer  life,  some  of  them  con- 
tinuing to  run  till  quite  recent  times. 

The  coachmen  faced  the  world  with  their  backs 
against  the  wall  and  bitterness  in  their  hearts.  They 
were  men  whose  lives  were  bound  up  in  their  coach 
and  the  interests  of  "the  road."  One  old  coachman 
who  had  driven  daily  for  eighteen  years  was  at  length 
persuaded  to  take  a  holiday,  which  he  celebrated  by 
travelling  on  the  box-seat  of  the  opposition  coach. 
Men  who  had  tooled  the  crack  coaches  to  their  own  and 
every  one  else's  admiration,  declared  they  would  never 
condescend    to    drive    anything    but    a    four-in-hand. 


252  THE   COACHING  ERA 

They  were  first-class  whips  but  there  their  accomplish- 
ments ended,  and  they  were  unfit  for  any  other  calling. 

It  was  the  loss  of  prestige  that  embittered  them;  they 
could  not  forget  what  important  personages  they  had 
been.  They  resented  patronage,  and  repelled  intimacy 
with  those  who  had  been  formerly  subservient  to  them, 
and  were  so  ready  to  imagine  an  affront  that  even  those 
anxious  to  help  them  found  it  difl[icult  to  do  so. 

Coachmen  who  had  saved  money,  or  successfully 
courted  one  of  the  landladies  who  had  admired  them  in 
the  heyday  of  their  existence,  set  up  public-houses.  A 
few  were  provided  for  by  wealthy  patrons  who  had 
learnt  to  tool  a  coach  under  their  able  tuition;  some 
obtained  places  in  stables;  others  were  forced  to  drive 
buses  for  a  livelihood.  Some  whose  pride  could  not 
brook  their  altered  circumstances  and  the  loss  of  every- 
thing that  made  life  worth  living,  committed  suicide 
rather  than  submit  to  the  degradation  which  seemed 
inevitable.  The  tragedy  of  their  lives  lay  in  the  fa6l 
that  the  railway  shattered  the  coachmen's  world, 
leaving  them  isolated  figures  of  an  obsolete  past  that 
never  under  any  circumstances  could  be  reconstru6led. 

The  guards  fared  better  than  their  colleagues,  for 
they  were  the  servants  of  the  Post  Office,  and  though 
the  scene  of  their  operations  shifted  from  coach  to 
railway,  they  quickly  adapted  themselves  to  the  new 
order  of  things.  If  anything  they  were  a  little  too 
zealous;  one  coach  guard  lost  his  life  on  becoming  a 
railway  guard,  owing  to  a  fixed  idea  that  during  the 
journey  the  third-class  passengers  would  climb  out  of 


THE   COMING  OF  THE   RAILWAY     253 

their  open  trucks  and  get  into  the  closed  first-class 
coaches.  In  order  to  verify  this  suspicion  he  crawled 
along  the  train  whilst  it  was  in  motion,  but  lost  his 
foothold  and  was  killed. 

The  dwellers  in  country  distri61:s  mourned  the  passing 
of  the  coaches  with  the  bustle  and  excitement  conse- 
quent on  their  arrival,  a  loss  which  gave  rise  to  the 
parody  on  Goldsmith's  "  The  Deserted  Village  ": 

"No  more  is  heard  the  mellow  winding  horn, 

Waking  the  drowsy  slumbers  of  the  morn; 

No  spicy  'change'  now  waits  for  the  down  mail, 

For  woe  is  me!  the  Bristol's  on  the  'rail.' 

No  longer  now  is  heard  the  busy  din 

In  the  full  yard  that  marks  the  prosperous  inn; 

Unheard  is  now  the  watching  ostler's  call; 

The  only  'pair'  is  weary  of  the  stall. 

Silent  the  joke  of  'boots,'  ne'er  known  to  fail; 

The  keeper's  whistle  and  the  post-boys  tale. 

No  waiter  now  bestirs  him  for  the  nonce. 

To  answer  fifty  summonses  at  once; 

E'en  Bessy's  self,  so  long  the  bar's  fair  boast. 

The  cookmaids'  envy,  and  the  bagman's  toast. 

Whose  winning  smile  was  so  well  known  to  fame 

That  for  a  ray  each  traveller  duly  came — 

E'en  she — so  hopeless,  Hounslow,  is  thy  case — 

Hath  packed  her  traps  and  bolted  from  her  place." 

The  Railways  have  expedited  travel  and  brought 
numerous  improvements  in  their  wake,  but  they  have 
shorn  the  country  of  a  picturesque  speftacle  which  for 
so  long  had  seemed  an  integral  part  of  the  national  life. 

THE   END 


INDEX 


Aberdeen,  156. 
Abingdon,  Lord,  52. 
Abingdon  Machine,  The,  113. 
Accommodation,  The,  91. 
Adon,  96. 
Adams,  Jack,  45,  46. 
Age,  The,  95,  96,  97,  184. 
Ainsworth,  Harrison,  173. 
Alder,  John,  113. 
Alert,  The,  55,  90,  in. 
All  Souls 'College,  20. 
Alton,  17. 
Anne,  Queen,  4. 
Antelope,  The,  91. 
Appleby,  197. 
Argus,  The,  92. 
Ashe,  Miss,  166. 
Aston-under-Hill,  59. 
Aurora,  The,  200. 
Axminster,  23. 

B 

Bagshot,  17,  88. 

Bailey,  Jack,  41. 

Balloon,  The,  29. 

Bang  up  Song,  189,  190. 

Barnshaw,  John,  59. 

Bath,  9,  23,  33,  34,  35,  54,  92,  198,  207. 

Bayzand,  John,   55,    56,   57,    58,    59,    in, 

208,  209. 
Bayzand,  William,  55,  74,  75,  77,  78,  81. 

82,  83,  84,  130,  159. 
Beaufort  Hunt,  The,  90. 
B.D.C.  Song,  The,  187-8. 
Bedfont,  187,  188. 
Benson,  1 87,  205. 
Benson  Driving  Club,  186. 
Benson  Guard,'- 79,  80. 
Bentham  Mail,  The,  198. 
Berkeley  Hunt,  The,  90. 
Berwick-on-Tweed,  206. 
Birmingham,  129,  200,  249. 
Birmingham  Coaches,*46,  62,^73,  181,  200, 

229. 
Blenheim,  The,  52,  96,  97. 
Blewitt,  Mr.,  113. 
Bobart,  Tillimant,  60. 
Bonner,  William,  7.'-^ 
Borrow,  George,  49,  50. 


Boswell,  James,  136-7. 

Bowers,  Will,  60,  61,  62,  in. 

Brackenbury,  Richard,  184. 

Brainford,  6. 

Braintree,  169. 

Brighton,  54,  98,  184,  199,  200,  246. 

Bristol,  35,  no,  156. 

Bristol  Mail,  29,  205. 

Brougham,  Lord,  214,  220,  221. 

Browne,  Lady,  167-8. 

Buckingham,  Duke  of,  8. 

Burford,  Ned,  65,  66. 

Burton,  Dr.,  4. 

Bury  St.  Edmunds,  205-6. 

Butler,  Captain,  10. 

Buxton,  Charles,  188. 

Byers,  54. 


Cambridge,  205-6. 

Cambridge  Coach,  The,  202. 

Campbell,  Lord,  38. 

Carlisle,  214,  248,  249. 

Carlyle,  Mrs.,  224-5. 

Caroline,  Queen,  152. 

Castle,  James,  97. 

Chalk  Hill,  205. 

Champion,  The,  77. 

Chaplin,    William,     104,     105,    106,    108 

in. 
Charles  I,  n,  16,  151,  178. 
Charles  II,  10,  n,  14. 
Charlton,  Mrs.,  130. 
Cheltenham,  65,  j-j,  82,  92,  242,  246. 
Chesington,  152. 
Chester  Coach,  205. 
Chesterfield,  Lord,  188. 
Chilton,  III,  112. 
Cicero,  i. 

Cirencester  Mall,  173. 
Civil  War,  The,  4,  11. 
Cleaveland,  John,  180. 
Comet,  The,  86,  87.  88,  89,  91. 
Congleton,  103. 
Constable,  John,  128. 
Costar,   Mr.,   62,  63,  64,    loi,   HI,   II2, 

Cotton,  St.  Vmcent,  Sir,  183. 
Coventry,  83. 
Coventry  Coach,  205. 


255 


256 


INDEX 


Cowper,  William,  31. 

Cressel,  John,  17,  18,  19. 

Crisp,  Samuel,  152. 

Criterion  Coach,  The,  184-5-6. 

Cromwell,    Oliver,    151,    163,    178,     179, 

180,  181. 
Cross,  Thomas,  101-2. 


D 

Dart,  The,  90,  199,  200. 

Darwin,  Erasmus,  244. 

Defiance,  The,  92. 

Denmark,  Prince  George  of,  4. 

De  Qumcey,  118,  119,  153. 

Devonport  Mail.     See  Quicksilver,  The. 

Dickens,  Charles,  33,  120,  160. 

Dorchester,  45,  46,  112. 

Dover  Coach,  102,  134. 

Dunstable,  205,  233. 

Du  Vail,  Claude,  173,  174. 

Dye,  Thomas,  20. 


East  Grlnstead,  98. 

Eclipse,  The,  92. 

Economy  without  Monopoly,  92. 

Edgeworth,  Maria,  134. 

Edinburgh,  23,  156,  207. 

Edinburgh  Mail,  38,  204. 

Egerton-Warburton,  R.  E.,  Hon.,  106. 

Elizabeth,  Queen,  i,  6,  78,  151. 

Eltham,  22. 

Enstone,  62. 

Epping  Forest,  165. 

Epsom,  25,  152,  189. 

Eton,  u8,  243. 

Everett,  Jack,  199. 

Exeter,  23,  89. 

Exeter  Mall,  201,  205. 

Express,  The,  90. 


Fagg,  Thomas,  109,  no,  in. 

Fane,  Major,  95. 

Fearless,  The,  92. 

Field,  George,  128. 

Finchley  Common,  165. 

Flying  ChUders,  The,  90. 

Fossett,  John,  20. 

Foules,  75. 

Four  Horse  Club,  189. 


Gadshill,  165,  173. 

Gay,  John,  166. 

George  HI,  2,  9,  1 19. 

Gerrard's  Cross,  96,  97,  172. 

Give  and  Take,  The,  92. 

Glasgow,  156. 

Glasgow  Mail,  196. 

Gloucester,  77,  83,  94,  ill,  155,  169,  246. 

Gloucester  Coaches,  24,  64,  181,  205. 

Godalming,  5. 

Good  Intent,  The,  91. 

Grantham,  22. 

Green,  Verdant,  191-5. 

Greyhound,  The,  91. 

Gurney,  Goldsworthy,  Sir,  246,  247. 


H 

Halifax  Hope,  The,  199. 

Handcock,  Walter,  246. 

Hanwell,  198. 

Hark  Forward,  The,  90. 

Hatfield,  22. 

Havvke,  Martin,  Hon.,  184. 

Havvley,  Peter,  Colonel,  248,  249. 

HazHtt,  William,  39. 

Henley,  64. 

Hereford,  75,  159. 

Hertford,  89. 

Hertford,  Lady,  165. 

Hervey,  Lord,  6. 

Hieaway,  The,  90. 

Hieover,  The,  90. 

Highflier,  90. 

Highgate,  137,  138. 

Highmettled  Racer,  The,  90. 

Hind,  James,  163. 

Hockliff,  205. 

Holyhead,  249. 

Hood,  Thomas,  46. 

Home,  Benjamin,  108. 

Homer,  Nicholas,  169. 

Horsepath,  209. 

Hounslow,  87,  165,  203,  253. 

Howell,  James,  52,  62,  200. 

Hunt,  Leigh,  50,  121,  128. 

Huntingdon,  172. 


Incledon,  Mr.,  221-4. 

Irving,  Washington,  227,  234-40. 


INDEX 


257 


Isis,  The,  65. 
Islington,  79,  83,  233. 

J 

James  II,  10,  151. 

Johnson,  S.,  Dr.,  32,  136,  137,  147. 


Kensington,  6. 

Kew,  165. 

Kitchiner,  Dr.,  139-50,  216. 


Lamb,  Charles,  225,  226. 
Lavengro,  52. 
Leamington  Coach,  65. 
Leeds  Coach,  26,  204. 
Leicester,  230,  231. 
Lichfield,  204,  224. 
Life  Preserver,  The,  91. 
Lightning,  The,  go. 
Lincobi,  155. 

Live  and  Let  Live,  The,  92. 
Liverpool,  86,  216,  243,  249. 
Liverpool  Mail,  102,  204,  205. 
Long  Compton,  46. 
Longford,  Lord,  134. 
Lord  Nelson,  The,  91. 
Lowestoft,  204. 
Luckie,  John,  219-21. 

M 

MacAdam,  38,  108. 

Maclean,  165,  166. 

Macready,  William,  206,  207,  210. 

Magnet,  The,  92. 

Maidenhead,  165,  243,  250. 

Manchester,  24,   86,    109,    133,    156,    243, 

249. 
Manchester  Defiance,  106. 
Manchester  Telegraph,  41,  109. 
Mann,  Horace,  Sir,  165. 
Margate,  133. 
Marlborough,  198. 
Matthews,  Charles,  24,  122,  127,  189,  190, 

215,  217-21,  223,  224. 
Mazeppa,  The,  74,  75,  jj,  78,  81,  82,  84, 

159. 
Mendelssohn,  Felix,  133. 
Meteor,  The,  90. 
Mews,  P.,  20. 

17 


Mitford,  Miss,  131-2. 
Mohun,  Lord,  175,  176. 
Monmouth,  Duke  of,  9. 
Montrose,  Duchess  of,  167. 
Moritz,  Charles,  227-34. 
Mountain,  Mrs.,  no. 

N 

Napoleon,  133,  153,  158. 

Nelson,  Mrs.,  no. 

Nevison,  173. 

Newbury,  59,  68,  76. 

Newcastle-on-Tyne,  6,  156,  206   207,1248. 

Newmarket,  204. 

Nimrod,  29,  86,  200. 

Nimrod,  The,  97,  98. 

Nobbs,  Joseph  James,  72. 

North,  Lord,  165. 

Northampton,  205,  206,  232. 

Northampton  Coach,  230. 

Northleach,  77. 

Northumberland,  Earl  of,  9. 

Norwich  Coach  (Illustrations),  170,  222. 

O 

"  Old  Lai,"  98. 

Onslow,  Lord,  186. 

Ormond,  Lord,  215. 

Ovet,  Jack,  168. 

Oxford,  19,  20,  54,  55,  63,  65,  95,  96,  loi, 

no,  n2,  n3,  129,  130,  155,  191,  192, 

194,  209,  229,  243. 
Oxford  Balloon,  The,  60. 
Oxford  Defiance,  The,  183. 
Oxford  Stage-Coach,  23,  192. 
Oxonian,  The,  55,  56,  57,  58,  59,  ni,  208. 


Palmer,  John,  31,  33,  34,  35,  36,  37,  40,  69. 

Parker,  Edward,  21. 

Paul  Pry,  The,  130. 

Peerless,  The,  92. 

Pendennis,  191. 

Pennant,  Thomas,  8,  38,  70. 

Pepys,  Samuel,  10,  n,  12,  23,  135,  136,  177. 

Perth,  156. 

Peterborough,  172. 

Petersham,  Caroline,  Lady,  166. 

Petworth,  4,  5. 

Peyton,  Henry,  Sir,  97,  107,  188. 

Phoemx,  The,  199,  200. 


258 


INDEX 


Pickmck,  33,  160,  i6r. 
Pitt,  William,  34,  35. 
Plunkett,  166. 

Portsmouth,  59,  93,  155,  215. 
Prince  of  Wales,  The,  41,  91. 
Princess  Charlotte,  The,  91. 


Queen,  The,  91. 
Quicksilver,  The,  89,  90. 


Railway  Coach,  The,  91. 

Rapid,  The,  90. 

Reading,  16,  113,  243,  244. 

Red  Rover,  106. 

Regent,  The,  91. 

Regulator,  The,  88,  89,  90,  207. 

Reindeer,  The,  91. 

Reliance,  91. 

Retaliator,  The,  91. 

Richmond,  229. 

Richmond  Driving  Club,  188. 

Rippon,  Walter,  6. 

Rising  Sun,  The,  59. 

Rocket,  The,  90. 

Rockingham  Coach,  197. 

Roderick  Random,  6. 

Rodney,  The,  91. 

Ross,  Si. 

Routh,  Dr.,  176. 

Rover,  The,  90. 

Royal  Clarence,  91. 

Royal  Defiance,  45,  191. 

Royal,  William,  The,  91,  95,  96,  97. 

Royston,  204. 

Rugby,  116,  118. 

Rupert,  Prince,  10. 


St.  Albans,  98,  233. 
Salisbury,  23,  no,  201. 
Saxmundham,  79,  204. 
Sheridan,  Richard  B.,  210-13. 
Sherman,  Edward,  109. 
Shipston,  46. 
Shooter's  Hiil,  177. 
Shotover  Hill,  23. 
Shottenham,  159. 
Shrewsbury,  77. 
Shrewsburj',  Earl  of,  76. 
lough,  243,  250. 


Smith,  Sydney,  213-15 
Smollett,  Tobias,  6. 
Snowdon,  WiUiam,  96. 
Soulbrifere,  Monsieur,  14. 
Southampton,  17. 
Sovereign,  The,  250. 
Speedhamland,  129. 
Spitfire,  The,  91. 
Spooner,  John,  62,  63,  64,  65. 
Spread  Eagle,  The,  91,  104. 
Stacey,  John,  iii. 
Stacey,  Will,  55,  iii. 
Stag,  The,  17,  87. 
Staines,  17,  87. 
Stamford  Fly,  The,  172. 
Star  of  Brunswick.  91. 
Steam  Horse  Coach,  91. 
Stephens,  Joe,  67,  68. 
Stephenson,  George,  249. 
Stevenson,  Mr.,  184. 
Stroud  Coach,  24. 
Susse.x,  4,  5. 
Sydney,  Philip,  Sir,  8. 
Syntax,  Dr.,  141-2. 


TagUoni,  The,  184. 

Tally-ho,  The,  90. 

Tantivy,  The,  90,  106,  107,  129. 

Tantivy  Trot,  The,   107,  108. 

Taylor,  Bill,  58. 

Taylor,  John,  12,  13,  16. 

Telegraph,  The,  90,  181. 

Thackeray,  W.,  164,  191. 

Thoresby,  Ralph,  22. 

Thrale,  Mrs.,  32. 

Thurloe,  Secretary,  178,  179. 

ToUit,  Joe,  96. 

Tom  Brozvn's  School  Days,  1 1 6-1 8 

Trafalgar,  The,  91,  153. 

Turnham  Green,  166. 

Turpin,  Dick,  134,  163,  173. 


U 


Union,  The,  79. 
Uxbridge,  96. 


Vanity  Fair,  190-1. 
Villebois,  Squire,  j6,  188. 
Vivid,  The,  90. 
Vixen,  The,  91. 


INDEX 


259 


w 


Walpole,  Horace,  5,  165,  166. 

Walpole,  Lady,  167. 

Walton,  204. 

Warburton,  Peter,  Sir,  103. 

Warde,  John,  41,  107,  181. 

Ware,  127. 

Warrington  Coach,  27. 

Waterloo,  153. 

WeUer,  Sam,  160,  161. 

Wellington,     Duke     of,     91,     109,     133, 

246. 
Wesley,  John,  28,  135. 
Whitchurch,  57,  58. 
Whitney,  James,  175. 
Whitway,  67. 
Wicks,  Ned,  175-6. 
Williams,  Bill,  182-3. 
Wilson,  Richard,  211,  212,  213. 
Winchelsea,  164. 


Winchester,  58,  155. 

Windsor,  9,  184,  229. 

Winterslow,  201. 

Wisbech  Coach,  203. 

Witherington,  James,  59. 

Witney,  81. 

Wolverhampton,  221. 

Wonder,  The,  97,  109. 

Wood,  Anthony,  172. 

Woodstock,  46,  194. 

Woolwich,  134. 

Worcester  Coaches,  168,  198,  205. 

Worcester,  Marquis  of,  184,  185. 

Wycombe,  96. 


Yarmouth,  204. 

York,  23,  25,  38,  no,  155,  173,  213. 

York  Mail,  98. 

Young,  Arthur,  5. 


BRITISH 
SPORTING    ARTISTS 

FROM    BARLOW    TO    HERRING 

BY 

WALTER    SHAW    SPARROW 

WITH     A     FOREWORD      BY 

SIR    THEODORE    COOK 

AND    TWENTY-SEVEN    ILLUSTRATIONS    IN    COLOUR 
AND    EIGHTY    IN    BLACK    AND    WHITE 

Demy   Quarto^  £2  2s.  net 


Also  a  Special  Edition^  limited  to  Ninety-five  Copies^ 
numbered  and  signed^  with  two  extra  illustrations  in 
colour  from  original  drawings  by  Henry  Alken^  never 
before    reproduced,    text  printed   on    handmade  paper 

£5  5s.  net 


JOHN  LANE  THE  BODLEY  HEAD  LTD.,  VIGO  ST.,  W.  i 


British  Sporting  Artists — continued 

EXTRACT    FROM    THE    INTRODUCTION 
BY    SIR   THEODORE   COOK 

"  It  is  with  more  than  usual  pleasure  that 
I  commend  to  the  English-speaking  world  the 
very  remarkable  book  in  which  these  lines  are 
granted  a  place  of  honour  ;  for  it  accomplishes, 
far  better  than  I  ever  dreamt,  a  vision  I  had  long 
cherished,  an  ideal  I  have  inevitably  postponed, 
and  it  will  be  warmly  welcomed  on  each  side  of 
the  Atlantic.  .  .  .  The  best  of  English  open-air 
life  is  portrayed  by  men  who  knew  it  well  because 
they  shared  in  it.  If  we  considered  it  only  as  a 
record  of  two  and  a  half  centuries  of  England,  it 
would  be  invaluable.  But  as  a  collection  of  actual 
examples,  beautifully  reproduced,  it  stands  alone  in 
its  contribution  to  our  knowledge  of  a  splendid 
company  of  painters.  Any  previous  verdicts  on 
Tillemans  or  Barlow  (to  take  only  two  instances) 
will  be  transfigured  by  Mr.  Shaw  Sparrow's 
industry  and  taste.  I  have  not  merely  admired  his 
selection  of  pictures,  I  have  read  his  text,  and  it  is 
with  full  responsibility  that  I  can  recommend  both 
to  his  readers.  I  only  hope  they  may  leave  me 
some  small  share  of  their  gratitude." 

JOHN  LANE  THE  BODLEY  HEAD  LTD.,  VIGO  ST.,  W.  i 


British  Sporting  Artists — continued 

The  following   is   a   list   of  Artists    represented  in  the  book, 
some  of  the  more  important  by  several  plates  : — 


COLOUR 

Henry  Alken. 
Francis  Barlow. 
H.   B.  Chalon. 
Abraham  Cooper,   R.A. 
Gill. 

J.  F.   Herring,  Sen. 
VV.   P.   Hodges. 
Samuel  Howitt. 
Ben  Marshall. 
George  Morland. 
Philip  Reinagle,  R.A. 

BLACK  AN 

H.  Alken. 

F.   Barlow. 

William  Bakraud. 

J.   E.   Fernelev. 

George  Garrard,  A.  R.A. 

Gainsborough. 

Gilpin  and  Reinagle. 

Sawrey  Gilpin,  R.A. 

J.   F.   Herring. 

Edwin  Landseer  and  John 

Phillip. 
J.  Highmore. 
Abraham  Hondius. 
J.  C.  Ibbetson. 
Ben  Marshall. 


PLATES 

Thomas  Rowlandson. 
James  Seymour. 
Loraine  Smith. 
George  Stubbs. 
George    Stubbs    and     his 

Son. 
Peter  Tilleimans. 
D.  Wolstenholme,  Jun. 
John  Wootton. 
H.   K.   Browne  ("  Phiz  "). 


D  WHITE 
W.   Mason. 
George  Morland. 
J.   N.   Sartorius. 
James  Seymour. 
William  Shayer. 
George  Stubbs. 
Peter  Tillemans. 
James  Ward,  R.A. 
Francis  Wheatley,  R.A. 
D.      Wolstenholme      the 

Elder. 
John  Wootton. 
Wootton    and    Tillemans 

Period 
John  Wyck. 


JOHN   LANE  THE  BODLEY  HEAD   LTD.,  VIGO  ST.,  W.i 


QUEEN    ELIZABETH'S 
MAIDS     OF     HONOUR 

And    Ladies    of    the    Privy    Chamber 
By    VIOLET    A.   WILSON 

Illustrated.     Second  Edition.     Demy  8vo,  I2S.  6d.  net 

Sunday  Times. — "This  handsome  and  well-illustrated  volume 
performs  even  better  than  its  title  promises.  It  not  only  gives 
full  and  entertaining  biographies  of  various  members  of  that 
extremely  interesting  group,  Elizabeth's  Maids  of  Honour,  but  a 
good  deal  of  biographical  and  historical  matter  that  is  not  closely 
germane  to  the  ladies  in  question." 

Westminster  Gazette.— '■'■  Miss  Wilson  draws  an  interesting 
picture  full  of  gaiety  and  intrigue." 

Daily  Telegraph.—'''  Her  narrative  is  based  upon  wide  re- 
search, and  many  of  her  stories,  especially  those  of  the  Ladies 
Catherine  and  Mary  Grey  are  full  of  genuine  pathos." 

Pall  Mall  Gasette.—  "Th&  book  is  really  a  very  interesting 
picture  of  life  in  those  far-off  times  wherein  human  nature,  at 
least,  differed  not  a  whit  from  our  own." 

Daily  Mail.— "  A.  lively  and  amusing  account  of  the  bevy  of 
fair  women  attached  to  Elizabeth  and  incidently  of  her  Court  and 
manner.  .  .  .  One  of  the  great  finds  of  the  book  is  its  account 
of  what  must  have  been  the  first  game  of  lawn  tennis  ever  played 
on  one  of  the  lawns  of  Elvetham,  Hants." 

JOHN  LANE  THE  BODLEY  HE.A.D  LTD.,  VIGO  ST.,  W.  i 


Veterinary  lib'-^'^' 
Tufts  Unh.. 

School  of   Vv;-v..  .  ..-     ^, 

200  Westboro  Rd. 

North  Grafton.  MA   O'^'^'^S 


